Niphred Ôl
by Quellecristiel
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but loves him too much to leave... LGlorfindel, eventual LElrohir- slash dark themes- READ THE WARNINGS
1. Default Chapter

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18) Author: Quellecristiel Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir Rating: R Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
*phew* on to the story now.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Niphred Ôl  
  
Chapter 1  
  
The stars had been shining brightly over Imladris for more than four hours, but one elf still sat awake and watchful in his chambers. Legolas Greenleaf perched anxiously on a chaise-lounge in the suite he shared with Glorfindel, a warrior of the valley city, the minutes passing like hours. His lover still had not returned, but Legolas knew he would want him to be ready and attentive as he came through the door. He had been waiting up for hours now and was tired, but knew better than to go to bed.  
  
After what seemed like an age, Legolas' keen ears detected the first sounds of his lover's return. Anxiety and anticipation heightening his senses, he was able to hear the heavy, uneven footsteps of the Elda approaching. His nose soon detected the telltale odour of alcohol, a mixture of wine and mead.  
  
Legolas' blood ran cold in his veins. He known in his heart why Glorfindel had once again been out until such a late hour, but the confirmation of the fears he had tried to deny came as a bitter disappointment. What's more, it turned the nagging worry in his brain into an icy fear that gripped him.  
  
The footsteps were closer now, just behind the door, the stench of alcohol unmistakeable. Terror jabbing at his heart, the prince curled up on the chaise-lounge, eyes tightly shut. //Perhaps if he thinks I am asleep, he'll just go to bed and forget by the morning. // It was a tactic that had always failed in the past, but hearing the drunken lord on the other side of the door, Legolas couldn't bring himself to go to him, to walk willingly into yet another beating.  
  
The door swung open to crash against the wall, denting the plaster where the doorknob struck it. Glorfindel staggered into the room, swaying dangerously on his feet and reeking of mead. "Legolas!" Legolas forced his face to take on an open-eyed, vacant expression, feigning sleep though the stench of the alcohol stung at his nose. He felt the floor shake from the Elda's pounding feet, but forced himself to remain still, silently praying that his lover would leave him be for tonight.  
  
No such luck.  
  
A strong hand grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up. Hissing at the pain, Legolas scrambled to his feet, the hand still firmly fisted in his blonde locks. "Do not ignore me! When I call you, you come immediately." "I'm sorry, I-" Legolas broke off as a fist smashed into the side of his face, nearly knocking him over but for the hand still holding him by the hair. "Stop grovelling!" Glorfindel yanked hard at the smaller elf's hair, sending him crashing into the wall, before finally loosening his iron grip.  
  
"Useless. why can you never do anything right?"  
  
Dazed by the blow inflicted on his head as he was thrust into the wall, Legolas crossed unsteadily to the other side of the room, shutting the door to their quarters. //Too late// he thought to himself, //No doubt the entire east wing will have woken at the commotion. I only pray they haven't heard too much.//  
  
Across the room, Glorfindel was now staggering towards the chaise- lounge. "Bring me more wine." He sank down heavily onto the seat, devoid of his usual Elven grace. "But surely-"  
Glorfindel's eyes flashed dangerously, and the blonde prince abandoned his timid protest and meekly reached for the cabinet where Glorfindel kept a collection of wine and spirits. With trembling hands he selected a bottle and goblet, carefully bearing them across the floor. Rough hands grabbed them from him, and he edged backwards as the older elf swigged from the bottle. Glorfindel drank like a man dying of thirst, making Legolas' eyes widen in astonishment and trepidation. At this rate, surely it could not be long before.  
  
Glorfindel stood and took a few unsteady steps towards their bedroom, then swayed precariously and pitched forward face-first. Legolas sprang forward, catching his lover before he hit the flagstone floor and eased the now-empty bottle from his hand. Sighing, Legolas half-dragged the warrior into their bedchamber and laid him down on the bed. He felt the strain on his injured shoulder as he stooped down to unlace his prone lover's boots, sliding them off gently. //He never used to be like this, // he thought miserably, //it used to be so nice, before.//  
  
Still, he had gotten off lightly tonight.  
  
He reached over to loosen the collar of the Elda's tunic and undo the braids adorning his hair, head pounding, when Glorfindel stirred beneath him. Legolas found himself looking into bleary eyes still fogged with mead and wine, but the shadow of violence and anger now gone from within their depths. Clumsy hands reached up for his face, and Legolas flinched involuntarily.  
  
"Legolas." the words came out slurred. "Love, I'm sorry, you know I love you, I'll never hurt you again, I'm sorry my love." The lord's hands were clutching blindly at his lover, eyes glazing over as sleep and oblivion threatened to claim him. Legolas' heart gave a flutter- perhaps there was still hope. "Truly?" he whispered softly.  
  
But Glorfindel was already asleep 


	2. Chapters 24

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)  
  
Author: Quellecristiel  
  
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 2  
  
Large, anxious eyes peered back at Legolas, dark against the ghostly white face to which they belonged. Staring at his reflection in the dressing table mirror, the young prince despaired.  
  
He looked like he hadn't eaten or slept in weeks, and however close to the truth that might be, he simply couldn't go out looking this way. Someone would be bound to suspect that something was wrong, and Legolas didn't think he could deal with the humiliation if anyone ever found out.  
  
How long had his lover been taking out his anger on him? How many years now since the beatings started, gradually getting worse? Since Glorfindel's drinking had spiralled out of control?  
  
He cursed his own weakness for taking it all, but he couldn't find the strength to leave. He simply loved the blonde too much to depart. Besides, Glorfindel would never allow it, and there was no one Legolas could ask for help- to others, Glorfindel was an upstanding, respected council member, a brave warrior, charming and witty. Only Legolas saw the other side of the noble lord's personality; the terrifying alter-ego that revealed himself when alcohol poisoned the better half of Glorfindel's brain.  
  
Legolas wasn't sure which would be worse- the isolation and scorn he would suffer if they didn't believe his story, or the shame of them discovering it true. For wasn't he a warrior too? How could he let this happen to himself, where was his pride? They would never understand why he couldn't just leave.  
  
His hand ghosted of its own volition over the new bruise blossoming on his temple. He still loved the Elda, despite everything, and Glorfindel did love him, didn't he? That was what he said last night, wasn't it?  
  
He turned his attention back to the painful bruise on his forehead. His Elven healing abilities meant that since the previous night it had lightened in colour considerably, fading to a purplish yellow, but it still remained visible, advertising that something was amiss to any who cared to look. Legolas carefully combed his hair and tied it back loosely with a leather strap, letting the hair above his temples droop down a little, obscuring most of the tell-tale mark. It would do for the moment, he thought. Besides, his Elven blood would ensure that within another few hours the bruise would be entirely healed.  
  
Gentle snores coming from the next room told Legolas that Glorfindel still slept, the binge of the night before taking its toll. Quietly, he reached for his clothing, wincing slightly as his shoulder creaked in protest, stiff and sore from the collision with the wall the night before. His head still throbbed painfully from the combination of slaps, punches, hair-pulling and the impact with the hard stone wall, but he did his best to ignore the pounding in his skull.  
  
He stepped into his breeches and laced them up before pulling on his shirt and tunic, grimacing once more at the stress put on his damaged shoulder. If he could hardly bear lifting his arms to dress himself, how was he going to manage throughout the rest of the day? He was due within half an hour at the practise fields to meet with the twin lords of Imladris, his friends from childhood. Elladan and Elrohir had challenged him to a friendly sparring match a few days ago, and Legolas was beginning to wish he had declined.  
  
Now however, there was nothing to be done about it; a sudden cancellation would arouse the twins' suspicion and likely hurt their feelings. Sighing resignedly, the prince put on a brave face and picked up his sword and belt lying on the top of the chest of drawers, running his hand affectionately over the sheath. Strapping it about his waist, he made his way silently to the door, thankful that his lover's soft snores continued uninterrupted in their rhythmic pattern. Easing the door open a crack, the blonde squeezed through the opening he had made and stepped out into the cool, quiet corridor.  
  
His route to the practise field was solitary but for the occasional maid or vassal going about their daily business. Legolas felt his heart lighten as he stepped out into the open air, the sunshine warming his back. Perhaps this would not be such a terrible experience after all. Already he felt better since leaving his lover's presence.  
  
"Mae govannen, gwador!" Elladan's voice rang clear across the training field, turning the prince's attention to the two identical elves beneath a tree on the far side of the range. They were slightly taller than he, and with ebony tresses arrayed in identical braids. Where Legolas' eyes were blue, theirs were a clear grey, and their mortal heritage showed itself in their broader chests and shoulders.  
  
Legolas smiled to see his childhood friends and closest confidantes during the years he had spent here in Imladris. Joining them where they stood, he grasped Elladan's arm in a warrior's greeting, before turning to do the same with his brother. "Will you spar with us, gwador?" Elrohir asked with a glint in his eye, already certain of the answer. Legolas ignored his pain to reply heartily, "I have never been one to turn down a challenge."  
  
They moved away from the tree into a clearing where they could swing their blades unobstructed. Elrohir and Legolas bowed to each other, stepped back, and drew their swords, beginning their match. Elladan lay back languidly in the sun, a smile playing on his lips as he watched them strike and parry on the grass.  
  
They were evenly matched, and their game drew on, continuing until the heat of the day began to make itself felt. Sweat glistened on their brows, and Elrohir paused from their sport to remove his shirt and tunic. Legolas followed suit and had just reached for the ends of his shirt when he checked himself- there would still be bruising covering his skin from the previous night, and displaying this to the twins would only lead to awkward questions and suspicions.  
  
He let his hands fall away from the fabric.  
  
"Will you not take off your shirt? The day is hot." Legolas shook his head at Elladan's query, taking up his sword again and turning to face the younger twin once more.  
  
They continued, trading blows with the sword until the sweat poured in rivulets down Legolas' back and his damaged muscles screamed in agony. The field in front of him spun, and Legolas felt his sword knocked from his hands by a well-aimed blow. Oblivious to his friend's distress, Elrohir whooped in triumph. "Well fought! But my little brother takes the winner's title this time, gwador." Legolas nodded weakly, wishing the valley would stop spinning and stay put. Sensing something amiss, Elrohir reached out, concerned.  
  
"Legolas, are you well?" He pulled at the shirt the woodland prince wore. "Come, you are overheated, let us take this off and get you into the shade."  
  
Still slightly dazed, Legolas was about to allow the younger Peredhel to remove the garment, when a warning bell clanged somewhere at the back of his mind. Panicking, he stepped back, shoving Elrohir's hands away.  
  
"No!"  
Elrohir stepped back, bewildered by the outburst, and Elladan rose, holding up his hands placatingly. The blonde's strange behaviour was mystifying. "Legolas, be calm. He wasn't going to hit you, what's gotten into you?" He came up behind the prince, intending to place a soothing hand on his shoulder, but stopped dead as he approached, eyes widening in shock.  
  
"By Elbereth, Legolas! What happened to your shoulder?"  
Confusion whirled through Legolas' brain- how could.? He looked over his shoulder and felt his stomach lurch, the sweat on his back had turned the thin shirt completely transparent, leaving the dark purple bruises covering his shoulder blade displayed for all to see. Legolas' heart thundered in his chest. He was cornered. "I.I fell from my horse," he stammered. "I did not want you to know of my clumsiness."  
  
Elladan frowned, not believing such a feeble excuse. Elrohir took advantage of Legolas' distracted state to take the blonde's head firmly in his hands, forcing him to look the younger twin in the eye. "Tell us the truth. I know you were not riding yesterday, for I was in the stables all afternoon and you met with father in the morn. What are you hiding?" As he spoke, a dark shape over Legolas' right temple caught his eye. Brushing the hair back from his face before the prince could react, Elrohir gasped.  
  
"Legolas, someone hit you!" The prince wrenched himself free and backed away, fumbling in the grass for his blade. "I told you, I fell from my horse," he repeated, more confident this time but still with a slight tremor in his voice.  
  
He succeeded in finding his sword and tucked it safely into its sheath. "I have to go." "Legolas, wait!" But the prince had already turned and fled towards the house leaving the twins confused and worried. Shaking his head, Elrohir turned towards his brother.  
  
"I'm going to speak to father of this. Something just isn't right."  
  
Chapter 3  
  
Back inside his chambers, Legolas curled up in a corner, hands clutching his head, trying to make sense of his conflicting emotions. He hated the beatings, yes, and wanted them to stop, but he couldn't let the twins find out about them, even if it might mean an end to the pain. And they surely would discover the truth if they continued to pry like this.  
  
How could he have let them see the bruises? He thought he had been careful. Legolas was utterly mortified -if they were to find out, the shame caused by their knowing the way he allowed himself to be used would surely kill him. They would scorn him for his weakness, just as Glorfindel did. They wouldn't understand why he couldn't leave, that he loved the warrior too much. They would never understand that Glorfindel did love him in return.  
  
He absentmindedly swivelled the ring on his left hand -gold, with a delicate golden flower set with a sapphire. It had been a love token from Glorfindel years ago, when they exchanged rings as a symbol of their devotion. Just as Legolas now wore this ring, an heirloom of the House of the Golden Flower, Glorfindel wore a mithril band set with a single, brilliant green emerald, symbolising the Royal House of Greenwood. A token that his lover still wore today, Legolas reflected. Yes, of course the Elda loved him- they still wore these symbols of love, did they not? Nay, it was not, could not, really be Glorfindel who flew into these violent rages. It was simply the drink, and he would stop someday, he would.  
  
The real, loving Glorfindel was in there somewhere, he just knew it.  
  
* * *  
  
Elrond poured over the first draft of a new trade agreement with Lorien, so absorbed in this tedious work that he didn't hear the gentle knocking at his door. Only when the knocking redoubled in volume did he look up from his parchment in surprise, bidding his visitor enter. A dark head with his own grey eyes emerged shyly from the corridor beyond, followed shortly by the remainder of his youngest son.  
  
"Elrohir my child, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you inside to my study when the day outside is so fine?"  
  
"I wanted to speak to you about something, Ada." Glancing at the quills and parchment littering the study desk, Elrohir blushed. "Forgive me, you are busy and I have interrupted."  
  
Elrond pushed the debris aside. "You and your brother are always more than welcome in my study, you know that." Turning a frustrated eye towards the infernal trade agreement, he continued wryly, "And right now, I assure you that you are a most welcome interruption. What is on your mind?" Elrohir came to perch on the side of his father's desk, legs dangling over the edge. He rubbed his nose thoughtfully, considering how best to articulate his worry.  
  
"It's about Legolas, Ada. He's been so subdued of late, but I didn't think much of it until now- I just supposed he missed the Greenwood. But today- today Elladan and I saw something we found quite disturbing." Elrond raised his eyebrows, and indicated to his son to continue.  
  
"As I was saying; we were sparring in the training field, with the sun starting to bake us alive, yet Legolas refused to remove his shirt. He tired faster than usual- seemed to be tired before we began, even- and after a while he looked like he was going to faint any second, his eyes were so out of focus. Then, as if this was not enough, Ell' and I got a glimpse of his shoulder, Ada- it was bruised back and blue, visible even through his shirt! And I found another such mark on his temple, as through he had been punched. When we confronted him, he claimed that he fell from his horse, but I know he was nowhere near the stables yesterday!" He paused for breath, looking pleadingly at his father. "Adar, there is something seriously wrong with Legolas, he is acting so strangely. I don't know what to do, when he denies there is any problem."  
  
Elrond looked back sadly at his son, his worst fears confirmed. "I have long suspected that all is not well with the prince, since I noted how strange the break was when he fractured his wrist months ago- the bone had splintered, as though his wrist had been sharply twisted. A sharp impact, such as a fall, would have produced a clean break. I'm afraid this is only the latest in a series of worrying developments, pen-neth." Elrohir frowned. "What do you mean?" "Legolas has been more than usually withdrawn over the last year; his outgoing personality seems to have been replaced by a more sober, pensive one. There was that unusual injury as I said before." Elrond paused, choosing his words carefully. "And, I have noticed of late the rather increasing quantities of alcohol that my seneschal has been consuming recently."  
  
"Glorfindel? But what does that have to do with Legolas acting strangely?"  
  
Elrond sighed deeply. "Everything, son. Drink can make someone into quite a different person; bring out sides of us that under normal circumstances would remain in check. It makes us forget all rational thought, and brings out our.. baser instincts."  
  
Comprehension dawned on Elrohir, and gave way to horror.  
  
"You mean- surely Glorfindel cannot be the one causing these injuries." The thought of his old tutor lifting a hand to his lover seemed ridiculous.  
  
"You know very little about him pen-neth, there are sides to him that you have never seen. This all coupled with the reports I received this morning from several disgruntled residents of the East wing that angry shouting and loud banging was heard last night coming from the chambers they share, seems to support my theory. What you have told me today has simply confirmed my theory."  
  
"Why would Legolas not say anything? Why would he let it happen?"  
  
"You have never been in love Elrohir. Sometimes our love is so all consuming, it blinds us to the realities of a situation. Sometimes we can no longer see when the love is gone from the other half of the relationship." The lore master lowered his tone, massaging his temples. "And Legolas is proud. The thought that someone might find out about his being beaten regularly likely horrifies him. He may well be ashamed of what is going on."  
  
"Ashamed? Why should he be the one to feel embarrassed? It is Glorfindel who should be ashamed of his behaviour."  
  
"But I doubt Legolas will see it that way," his father explained patiently.  
  
Elrohir clenched his hands into fists, ready to seek out Glorfindel and give him a taste of his own medicine. How dare he harm such a perfect creature? If Elrohir had been the one to hold the prince's heart, he would be worshipping the ground the blonde walked upon, not using his fair body to vent his anger on.  
  
Sensing his son's rage and indignation, Elrond spoke quickly "Do not interfere in this, Elrohir, it is not our place. Legolas has to come to a decision himself. He will need a supportive friend, which is the role you must assume. We must simply watch our Greenleaf carefully in the next few months, and pray he makes the right choice himself."  
  
Chapter 4  
  
Six weeks had passed since the incident with the twins in the training field, and Legolas was relieved to discover that after their initial shock, they had decided to back off and ceased to press him for answers. His relationship with Glorfindel was no less volatile, but the blonde lord seemed to have become more subtle- he no longer hit Legolas where the bruises might show, and made sure that a suitable excuse was concocted in case someone should notice any telling marks.  
  
Despite this, Legolas became steadily more withdrawn, paranoid that somehow people might be able to tell just be looking at him what was happening. The only people he would still agree to meet with regularly were the twins, Elrohir in particular. He had always felt closest to Elrohir, ever since both Peredhil were fostered in the Greenwood as children, but over the past few weeks they had become closer than ever. So many times he had been tempted to pour out everything to the younger twin, desperate for the warmth and understanding that Elrohir seemed to radiate. Thus far however, he had managed to keep his emotions in check. He did not want one moment of weakness to cause him to lose his closest and most trusted friend. The time he spent with the Peredhil was the only part of the day when he could relax and be carefree, and Legolas cherished their meetings.  
  
The prince smiled as he braided his hair. His friends would be waiting for him now at the stables, ready to ride out into the forest. It would let him escape his troubles, even if only for and hour or two, and his heart felt lightened already.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" The leaden weight returned, Legolas' heart sinking. //Not now, please not now.// "I'm only riding with the twins, meleth, I will be gone but I couple of hours, in time to serve you this evening." Glorfindel stood leaning on the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. At Legolas' words, his lips curled into an unpleasant sneer. "I might have known you'd be creeping off to your slutty little Elrohir. You spend more time with him than me." Legolas bit down his frustration, forcing himself to remain calm. "He is my friend, nothing more." Glorfindel stepped forward threateningly, his face contorted in a snarl. "You expect me to believe that? With you always running off with them?" "I have the right to see my friends." "And what of my rights? Do you forget your duty to me? I won't have you seeing them anymore, and that's final!" Legolas' outrage boiled over, and he yelled straight back.  
  
"You don't own me!"  
  
As soon as the words had left his lips, Legolas knew it had been the wrong thing to say. Panicking, he held out his hands, preparing to apologise, when Glorfindel suddenly moved. Roaring in fury at being opposed, the Elda lashed out brutally, knocking the smaller elf to the floor.  
  
Legolas tried to use his arms to protect himself from the hail of blows raining down on him, but his lover's superior strength defeated him. He couldn't defend himself against the constant flow of punches and kicks Glorfindel directed at him. A particularly savage kick to the stomach left him gasping for breath, curling up instinctively. His chest felt fit to explode, each breath he took was a form of torment. Screwing his eyes tightly shut, he waited, panting, for the outburst to end.  
  
Breathing heavily from the exertion, Glorfindel finally ceased the punishment on his lover's body, looking down at him contemptuously. "Go to your precious Elrohir, whore. Get out of my sight!" Legolas drew a deep, painful breath, clutching at a table leg, unable to rise in his current state. Growling with impatience, Glorfindel hauled him up by the arm, ignoring the pained cry that issued from his lover's lips. Dragging the injured elf to the door, the blonde lord tossed him from the room into the cold corridor beyond.  
  
Legolas was barely able to cling to the stone wall outside the room to keep himself from falling. He felt dizzy and sick from the pain, but persevered, trying to remain upright as he traversed the hallway. He was so preoccupied with the task of making it to the stables without collapsing that he failed to notice the horrified looks he received from passing citizens- though he was too disorientated to realise it, warm red blood dripped from his nose and a gash on his cheek, he clothes were in a state of complete disarray, and his hair was a dishevelled, bloody mess. His breaths became increasingly laboured, but he struggled on towards where he knew the twins would be waiting. The pain was too intense for him to be capable of rational thought, and his lover's final words to him replayed over and over in his head.  
  
After what felt like an age, the battered prince staggered out into the stable yard, startling a group of young stable boys with his bedraggled appearance. Darkness began to blur the edges of his vision, and he suddenly felt an almighty stabbing pain in the side of his chest, like a dagger was being thrust into him. Spitting up blood, he barely saw the Peredhil racing towards him. "Legolas! Gods, what happened to you?" At Elrohir's anguished cry, Legolas turned unseeing eyes towards the twins. He managed one step before he faltered, swooning into the younger twin's outstretched arms. Shouting in alarm, Elrohir scooped up the prince's limp body, carrying him securely. "Brother, run ahead to the healers!" Without a second's hesitation, Elladan raced in the direction of the Healing House. As fast as he could travel without jostling his delicate his delicate cargo, Elrohir set off after his brother, thanking every deity he could name that the healers were stationed close to the stables. It was a measure designed to ensure wounded soldiers arriving from battles were treated swiftly in times of war, but now it looked set to save his friend's life.  
  
A clutch of healers stood waiting for him as he approached the steps of the Healing House, and his burden was quickly taken from him and borne inside. Amid the confusion and flurry of activity, Elrohir was able to make out his father, directing the other healers and barking out orders. At the other side of the porch he saw Elladan, pale and scared. Suddenly both he and his brother were being shepherded inside, though in the opposite direction to the prince.  
  
Head spinning, Elrohir let himself be led into a cool, quiet and completely empty ward. Feeling nauseous, he was unresisting as he felt himself pushed to sit on an empty bed, Elladan doing the same. Shock was making him shiver violently, he was immensely grateful when the healer taking care of him wrapped a woollen blanket around his shoulders. Clutching it close, he looked up hopefully at the elf that had given it to him. "Will he be alright?" She shrugged apologetically. "I cannot say. The healers are with him now, they will be able to tell you more when they are finished." Elrohir nodded weakly, sick to the stomach, bracing himself for an agonising wait. 


	3. Chapters 5 to 7

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)  
  
Author: Quellecristiel  
  
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Elrohir fidgeted restlessly in his brother's arms, growing ever more frustrated. He had been waiting for news of Legolas for hours now, pacing the floor liked a caged beast until his twin could bear it no longer and drew him down into a tight embrace. Soothing hands gently massaged his shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to work out the knots of tension in the muscles there. Admitting defeat, Elladan wrapped one arm around his brother's waist, and with the other began rubbing slow circles on his tense back.  
  
"Relax brother. Fretting and pacing will not make the healers work any faster." Elrohir exhaled deeply, shutting his eyes and leaning back into the embrace. "I wish they would come. I cannot get his image out of my mind; blood everywhere." He shivered. "Hush, try not to think about that now, it will only cause you unnecessary anguish. Legolas will be alright, Ada is looking after him." Elrohir nodded, snuggling his head beneath the older twin's chin.  
  
It was like this that Elrond found them more than an hour later, still taking comfort in one another's nearness. As soon as he heard his father enter, Elrohir quickly disentangled himself, eager for a status report on the prince.  
  
Elrond looked tired and drained, and blood stained his otherwise pristine white healing robes, turning the twins pale. He paused taking in their anxious faces, before finally putting them out of their misery. "He will live," he said softly, provoking identical sighs of relief from the twins. "He wasn't as seriously injured as I initially feared, but the damage is still quite extensive- there is severe internal bruising, although the bleeding has been stopped, and three of his ribs are broken. One of them punctured a lung, which was why he was spitting up blood- he nearly drowned in his own blood."  
  
Elladan winced at his father's graphic description, while Elrohir fought the rising nausea. Elrond came to rest his hand on Elrohir's shoulder. "He will need several weeks in bed to recover- it was only due to the power of Vilya that he yet lives. He will also be in much pain. Legolas is unused to being an invalid- he will need both of you to support him." "We will, father," Elladan vowed. Elrond smild affectionately, resting his free hand on his eldest son's head. "You are both good boys, I am proud of you." But Elrohir remained unsatisfied. "But Ada, what about Glorfindel? Shouldn't he be punished for this? Legolas nearly died!" Elladan's brow creased in confusion. "Glorfindel? You think he did this?"  
  
Elrond sighed, unable to put this off any longer. "We have reason to believe this is his doing, yes, and that it is not the first time either." Elrohir took over. "You remember when Legolas broke his wrist?" Elladan nodded dumbly. "And the day at the training field, when he was covered in bruises?" Elladan looked shocked. "You mean he's been doing this for-" "Years, probably," his father put in, and even Elrohir turned to him in surprise. "And that's not all, I'm afraid. While I was examining him, I saw something else. It was difficult to tell at first with so much new bruising, but there are quite distinct markings on his back; welts that could only come from a whip of sorts, most likely a belt."  
  
Elladan swallowed hard. "He's sick. Glorfindel is sick." Elrohir could taste bile rising in his throat, but forced himself to focus on his earlier query. "What is going to happen to him?" "That is for Legolas to decide. If he chooses to bring charges against Glorfindel, I will of course give him all my support and sentence Glorfindel at a hearing." "And if he will not?" Elrond groaned quietly, knowing the answer was not one his son was going to like. "If that is the case, there is nothing I can do. I cannot interfere within a relationship unless Legolas makes a complaint. Proving what Glorfindel has been doing without Legolas' cooperation will be be impossible- there are no witnesses." Elrohir growled in indignation. "So we're just leaving it at that? Just sending him back to be beaten to a pulp again?" Elrond bit back his frustration at Elrohir's tone. "I have no choice Elrohir! I cannot prove this without Legolas."  
  
Elrohir's chest ached. Legolas was going to go straight back to be used as a punch bag all over again. "We have many weeks until he is fit to return to his quarters, brother. Mayhap by then he will have changed his mind," Elladan put in gently, sensing his brother's pain. Elrohir looked up, nodding tiredly, to see Elrond giving him a strange look, almost as if seeing him only for the first time. It made him feel uncomfortable, exposed somehow, and he quickly turned away. "You may see him now, if you wish." "Aye, I would like that." He would feel better if he saw the prince with his own eyes.  
  
They followed Elrond through the Healing House until they reached a door at the very back of the building, furthest from the main wards. Elrond opened it to reveal a private bedroom, small but comfortable. "I thought he would prefer an isolated room," he explained. The twins understood- the prince valued his privacy highly. Elrond beckoned them closer, and they gathered round the bed where their friend lay, sleeping peacefully.  
  
"The sedative should last well into the morning," the loremaster murmured, "it will give him relief from the worst of the pain." Seeing Legolas like this, looking so pale and fragile, stirred long buried emotions within Elrohir. He felt an intense longing to reach out and touch the battered face, to soothe the poor abused body, to gently kiss the bruised lips.  
  
Elrohir started. Where had that thought come from? Legolas was his best friend, he should not. But the more he gazed at the sleeping youth, the more his heart cried out for him. Elrohir wrenched his eyes away from the beauty lying on the bed, terrified he had been caught staring. To his chagrin, he saw the same knowing look on his father's face and flushed hotly, looking down at his feet. "Elladan, go tell Glorfindel that his lover has been injured and is being treated in the Healing Houses. Make clear that no visitors will be admitted at this time." "Yes father." Elladan smartly left the room, sensing the tension between his father and brother. Elrohir and Elrond were left alone, save for the sleeping prince. The younger elf was about to speak, but a look from his father silenced him immediately. "You love him." A statement, not a question. "I do." Elrond sighed. "This complicates matters. I know this may be hard to accept, pen-neth, but you must keep this attraction hidden." Elrohir was about to protest, but Elrond raised his hand, bidding him be silent. "I do not doubt your feelings are pure, but if you tell him of them while Legolas is still so vulnerable, and while his heart still belongs to Glorfindel, you risk losing his trust and friendship forever." Though he hated to admit it, Elrond's words were fair and reasonable. "I will say nothing of it." "Thank you for seeing reason, son. Just give it time- Legolas will be needing you greatly before long."  
  
Elrohir realised he was being dismissed, and retreated towards the door as Elrond fussed with the sheets around Legolas' unconscious body. Hearing the door click behind him, Elrond laid a cool hand on Legolas' feverish brow. "May you see as clearly as my son, pen-neth, or you will be in for much anguish."  
  
* * *  
  
When Arien rose over Imladris the next morning, at least part of the Last Homely House was bustling with activity. Lord Elrond had already been up for hours; changing bandages and checking wounds on his royal patient; writing a letter to King Thranduil explaining his son had been injured, though he downplayed the severity of the wounds and gave no explanation as to how they came about; dispatching the message to Greenwood with his swiftest mounted messenger; thinking up suitable excuses to delay Glorfindel's seeing Legolas, and finally snatching a quick breakfast before heading back to the Healing House. It had been agreed that he and his sons would take turns in watching the slumbering prince. Though he might still sleep for hours yet, when the time came, the half elf didn't want Legolas to wake frightened and alone.  
  
Elladan had stayed the night by the prince's side, and now it would soon be Elrohir's turn, but Elrond wanted to check on both his sons before he got some much-needed rest before his own shift later. The readiness with which both the twins agreed to sacrifice their time to help their friend filled the Lord's heart with pride and love; both had impressed him with their maturity this last day. And their support and friendship was something Legolas would definitely need in the coming weeks.  
  
The Healing House was quiet when Elrond arrived; sickness was almost unknown to the Elvish race, and in times of peace such as this the healers only had occasional minor injuries to contend with. Well, usually, he thought wryly. Entering the prince's room, he was greeted by his eldest son's warm smile, sitting in the chair beside the injured elf's bed.  
  
"Has he woken?" Elladan shook his head. "No; he tossed a little in his sleep, but didn't wake." Elrond nodded and laid a gentle but firm hand on his son's shoulder. "You should rest." "I will, when Elrohir comes. We shouldn't leave Legolas alone." Elrond gave the shoulder a squeeze. "He is lucky to have such caring friends." Elladan shook his head slowly. "We only reciprocate what he has done for us. He has always supported Elrohir and I, especially when Nana sailed." Sadness tinged his voice and he looked away, lost in memories. The awkward moment was rescued by Elrohir's quiet entry, causing both father and son to break out of their morbid reverie and turn towards the door. Elrohir closed the door carefully before crossing the room towards the bed. He was dressed simply and comfortably in a pale green tunic and leggings, and his hair hung loose and unbraided. His eyes went immediately to Legolas.  
  
"Has he woken?" Elladan shook his head and rose, suppressing a yawn. "If you are here brother I will take my leave." He took his twin's hand and squeezed it tenderly, and smiled tiredly at his father. Elrond turned to his younger son. "Will you be alright on your own?" "Of course father, get some rest before your own turn this afternoon."  
  
Elrohir ferried the two elves towards the door and sighed with relief, finally alone with the object of his affections. With the prince safely asleep, Elrohir could indulge his secret love, reaching out to gently stroke the soft blonde hair. Growing bolder when Legolas' breathing continued in the deep, slow rhythm of sleep, Elrohir allowed himself to bury his fingers deeper in the pale locks, gently massaging the scalp beneath. A soft murmur of pleasure sounded from the sleeping prince's lips, making Elrohir smile with satisfaction and grow more confident in his ministrations.  
  
Removing his hand from the soft blonde tresses, he gently stroked down the side of Legolas' face, then traced his fingertips lightly over high cheekbones. Even bruised and bloodied, he mused, Legolas was still handsome. Leaning down gingerly, Elrohir brushed his lips softly over each eyelid. Feeling the prince stir beneath him, Elrohir quickly pulled back, panicked, praying he hadn't overstepped his limits. Legolas seemed to flit between sleep and consciousness for a moment, his eyes first blank, then filled with panic. He tried to sit up, eyes darting wildly, But Elrohir swiftly reached forward, gently pressing him down onto the mattress again.  
  
"Shh, 'tis alright, you are safe." Legolas continued to struggle, seized with an instinctive fear. "Please, mellon, you will only hurt yourself further," Elrohir exclaimed desperately, fearing his internal injuries might be aggravated, "Lie still." Awareness returned to the prince's eyes. "Elrohir?" Legolas' voice was lost and anxious, and it made Elrohir's heart ache. "I'm here mellon, it's alright. Glorfindel will not hurt you here."  
  
He saw the blonde lick his parched lips, and remembered his father's healing lessons. "Would you like a drink?" Legolas nodded dazedly, and Elrohir poured out some water from a jug on the commode into a glass. Sitting on the edge of the bed and carefully lifting his friend to sit up leaning against him, Elrohir pressed the glass to the blonde elf's lips and let him drink his fill. He set the glass back down on the commode and eased Legolas back down to lie flat again. To his chagrin, the injured elf was now resolutely avoiding his gaze. "You know, don't you." Elrohir was momentarily confused, before he realised what Legolas was talking about.  
  
"Yes," he said simply, dropping his tone to match Legolas' whisper. "You must hate me." That one sentence held so much unspoken agony and self- disgust that Elrohir wanted to wrap the prince in his arms and kiss away his pain, but he contented himself with gently rubbing Legolas' knuckles, trying to reassure him. "No meldir, I could never hate you. None of this is your fault." Tears began to roll down Legolas' cheeks, and he quickly turned his face away.  
  
Elrohir had known the other for more than two thousand years now, and never once, in all their time together, had he seen Legolas cry. Unable to stand seeing his love so miserable and dejected, he immediately moved to the bed, lifting Legolas off the pillows to lean against his own torso, the blonde's head resting between neck and shoulder. Elrohir held him as sobs wracked his slim frame, careful not to press against the prince's injured ribs. After a time, the sobs began to quieten, and Elrohir started to gently rock the body in his arms.  
  
"Forgive my weakness.I." "There is nothing to forgive. Please Legolas, do not be ashamed of this, you are not to blame. Only Glorfindel is responsible for this, and he will be brought to justice." Legolas immediately squirmed in Elrohir's arms, turning to look up at the half-elf with eyes filled with alarm. "No! Please, I don't want anything to happen to him. He doesn't mean it." Elrohir's lips tightened in disappointment- even now Legolas refused to see the truth. "How long has it been happening?" Legolas turned away again, resting his head on Elrohir's shoulder. "Four years now. It used to be different, it was only when he started drinking." He tailed off, burying his face deeper into Elrohir's hair, taking comfort in his friend's embrace.  
  
"Go on," Elrohir encouraged. "At first it was nothing- he started getting moody, we'd aregue over things more often. Then when he had a fight, sometimes he'd slap or hit me in fustration, but he always regretted it, promised he'd never do it again." He swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this."  
  
Elrohir placed a protective hand at the back of Legolas' head. "No, you should. You've kept this bottled up for far too long. Tell me everything." Relaxing slightly as fingers began carding through his hair, the blonde took a deep breath and continued. "Well, he began drinking during the day, which he had never done before. I don't mean a glass of wine at lunch- he started drinking spirits, and all through the day when no one was watching him. Fairly soon he was hitting me all the time, for no reason at all." A solitary tear escaped his eye and trickled slowly down his cheek.  
  
"But it didn't stop there, did it? He didn't just hit you, did he?" A tremor coursed through Legolas' frame and he shook his head.  
  
"After a while, he started having these violent rages, coming home late at night, smashing the furniture." He shivered, and Elrohir's arms tightened protectively. "He started. he started using his belt." Legolas' voice dropped so low Elrohir had to strain to hear it. "He would come home and want me to take off my robe, for no reason other than he wanted to hurt something. He hits me with it, on my shoulders, back, legs." He trailed off, blushing a deep red. How Elrohir must see him now.  
  
Elrohir noted Legolas' unconscious use of the present tense, and continued stroking the blonde's hair sadly, offering whatever comfort he could. "I wish you'd told me, mellon," he whispered.  
  
"I couldn't," Legolas choked out, "I was too ashamed, I thought no one would believe me, they wouldn't understand." Elrohir placed a chaste kiss on the crown of Legolas' head. "I believe you, I understand." He felt Legolas' body slump against him, worn out from the emotional strain of their conversation. "Come, rest now. We can talk another time."  
  
Legolas nodded weakly and let himself be lowered to the mattress again, wincing slightly when the motion put stress on his injured ribs. Elrohir smoothed the coverlet around him and was about to move back to sit in his chair when Legolas covered his hand with his own, looking up with anguish in his eyes. "He doesn't mean it, really he doesn't. It's the drink, he doesn't mean to hurt me, he loves me." Elrohir sighed, gentling his touch even further as he tucked the coverlet up to the blonde's shoulders and laid a soothing hand on his forehead. "Sleep," he murmured quietly, as Legolas' tired eyes glazed over.  
  
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Chapter 6  
  
Elrohir padded quietly down the corridor, fearful that his footsteps might disturb the prince's sleep should he walk any louder. He had left Legolas sleeping to go seek out his father, eager to tell him of the blonde's story, and was now anxious to return to his side. His father had seemed vaguely troubled at everything he told him, but reassured Elrohir that Legolas' agreement to talk about it was a big step in the right direction. If he could gain the prince's unconditional trust, it would be easier to convince Legolas in the end that Glorfindel was insane and dangerous. Talking had also eased the burden of shame and repressed emotion Legolas had been carrying over the years.  
  
Elrohir stopped suddenly outside Legolas' door- he could hear the low murmur of two voices, one Legolas' and the other.  
  
Cursing himself for every sort of fool, Elrohir yanked open the door without knocking. How could he have let this happen? There in front of him, sitting in *his* chair by the bedside, was Glorfindel. A neat pile of clothing which Elrohir recognised to be Legolas' lay stacked on the dresser, along with a few books and the beautiful silver hairbrush and mirror the prince owned, a prized memento of his departed mother. A fresh bouquet of flowers had been arranged on the windowsill- Glorfindel was positively oozing charm and concern. He gave Elrohir a careful, searching look before quickly breaking out in a smile that didn't reach his eyes.  
  
"Elrohir," he said, voice smooth and unhurried, "What a pleasant surprise. I must thank you for your excellent care of Legolas." Beside him on the bed, Legolas smiled contentedly as the blonde lord's fingers carded easily through his hair. //He's buying it!// Elrohir thought furiously, //he really believes Glorfindel is going to going to change overnight.// It took all his will to keep his hands from clenching into fists and maintain a blank expression, but he just about managed it. Not trusting his voice, he simply nodded.  
  
"I just wanted to check he was aright, bring him a few things from our quarters." Glorfindel's hand now stroked up and down the length of his lover's ear, making Legolas purr and lean into the touch. Elrohir felt hypnotised, his eyes rooted to the spot where long slender fingers ran teasingly over the delicate tip of the prince's ear, a sensitive erogenous zone. A prickle of a foreign emotion tauted at his mind- jealously, he realised with a start. He wanted to be the one touching that white skin, giving him pleasure. Elrohir mentally shook himself, making his mind focus on the situation at hand. "That was kind of you Glorfindel, however, we are anxious that the prince rests to recover his strength."  
  
Taking the hint, Glorfindel's smile became even more forced and he rose from the chair. Bending down to kiss Legolas, he spoke softly into the prince's ear. "I will return as soon as I can, nin-bain." Legolas nodded and his eyes followed the lord adoringly as he made his way to the door. Flashing an almost desperate look at Elrohir, he waited until Glorfindel's footsteps had faded before he spoke.  
  
"I told you, he loves me. He brought me all this," he gestured at the clothes and flowers, "to make me more comfortable. He told me how sorry he is, and promised he'll never touch another drop of wine again." Legolas beamed. "He's going now to pour away all the bottles in our chambers!"  
  
Watching Legolas naively convince himself that Glorfindel would change was too much for Elrohir. It made him want to weep and shout and shake the prince hard by the shoulders all at the same time, but he remained silent, not meeting the blonde's eyes.  
  
The false cheeriness in Legolas' face crumpled, and he looked down blushing at the sheets, fighting the lump in his throat. Even to himself his arguments sounded ridiculous. He let Elrohir tuck the blankets around him again, still averting his eyes from his friend's deep grey ones. He closed them and turned his face towards the wall, preying for sleep and oblivion to claim him, when Elrohir's soft voice cut across his tangled thoughts.  
  
"Just remember Legolas, no matter what, if you ever wake up one day and realise you need out, if you ever need me, I'll be there for you." Hot, guilty tears slid down Legolas' face, and he buried his face further into the soft pillow, hiding them from view. He cursed his cowardice as he feigned sleep, but this was a conversation he wasn't ready to have.  
  
* * *  
  
Elrohir had sat watching Legolas for over an hour since the subtle change in breathing had marked the transition from consciousness to true sleep. He knew Legolas had only pretended to sleep, but decided, this time at least, not to call him on it. His friend needed rest and quiet now, not a grilling. Speaking of which, Elrohir reminded himself, he was due to face his own grilling when his father returned to take his watch. Explaining how Glorfindel had been allowed access to the prince despite Elrond's explicit orders that he be kept out for the moment was not going to be easy.  
  
As if acting on an invisible cue, a rustle of robes heralded his father's entrance. Elrohir groaned inwardly; could things get any worse? Gingerly, he turned to face Elrond. "Ada? I need to talk to you." Elrond was alarmed by his son's stricken face, his mind silently running through a list of possible catastrophes, but he kept his voice completely calm. "What is the matter, son?" Elrohir bit his lip, looking almost reluctant to speak. Like he used to as an elfling, Elrond reflected, when he had been caught doing something he should not. He braced himself for whatever the news might be.  
  
"Ada, I'm sorry, but. but when I came back to see you this morning, I completely forgot I musn't leave Legolas unattended. By the time I returned, Glorfindel was already here, promising Legolas the earth. He even brought flowers-" he gestured, distressed, at the niphrodel and roses on the windowsill. "I'm sorry Adar, it is all my fault."  
  
Elrond groaned inwardly; this was bad news indeed. He hadn't wanted Glorfindel anywhere near the prince until he himself had got the chance to undo some of the brainwashing that Legolas had suffered at the older warrior's hands. Now Legolas had seen Glorfindel and doubtless succumbed to his charm again, convincing the prince to leave him would be more difficult.  
  
Elrohir looked so dejected and guilty however, Elrond hadn't the heart to be angry. His expression softened as he laid his hand atop his son's. "Accidents happen, pen-neth, don't torment yourself. But may this serve as a lesson, to remind you never to let your concentration slip while on duty. Just do not leave Legolas alone again, until I tell you it is safe to do so." Elrohir nodded, some of the tension lifting from his shoulders, and looking considerably relieved. "Besides," Elrond continued, a shade of guilt colouring his voic, "I also played a part in this lapse. I should have thought of the consequences of your coming to my study. It didn't occur to me when we talked this morning that I would be taking you from his side."  
  
Elrohir looked appalled at the thought that his faher should feel himself to blame, and was opening his mouth to utter a denial of any guilt on Elrond's part, when his father quickly silenced him with a commanding look, Elrohir shrinking back meekly into his seat.  
  
"However," the lore master continued, "that is not the matter in hand. We can no longer keep Glorfindel away from his side if Legolas wants to see him, but we must be vigilant- watch for any signs that he may try to harm Legolas. I will also speak with Legolas; perhaps over time I can erode Glorfindel' conditioning and make him see the truth. I have had much experience treating emotional and mental health problems." "Thank you father." Elrohir felt better now he knew Elrond would be treating his friend, even if Legolas didn't realise what was happening. He rose from his chair, stretching his stiff, weary limbs, and stood aside to allow his father to take his place. Bowing his head in respect, he departed, going to rest in preparation for his next session with the prince.  
  
Elrond began settling himself when he noticed a drop of red blood seeping through one of the many clean white bandages Legolas wore. Frowning, he immediately fetched fresh bandages, a knife, and a selection of herbs with useful healing properties from the cupboard opposite the window, and came to stand by the bed. Carefully cutting away the offending bandage, Lord Elrond was alarmed to find that beneath had reopened and was bleeding again. Lifting his right hand to hover almost touching the open wound, Elrond took a deep breath, focusing his energy, letting it flow through Vilya into the prince.  
  
Vilya glowed and grew hot, channelling Elrond's own healing abilities into Legolas, causing the wound to close and the blood to stop. When satisfied with the result, Elrond closed his mind, severing the connection. Pausing to let the dizziness to subside, he slowly lowered his hand and began to carefully apply herbs to the area where the wound once lay, an ugly bruise now the only reminder of it's former presence.  
  
He wrapped another white linen bandage round Legolas' waist, securing it with a pin. The skin was hot to the touch, making Elrond reach for the prince's forehead anxiously. The skin beneath his hand was burning up, and a small whimper of pain escaped Legolas' lips. Elrond quickly returned to the cupboard and drew out several packets of herbs, before setting the window wide open, letting a cool breeze into the room. Filling the kettle above the fire, he set about preparing the herbs for a healing tea. Legolas shuddered quietly beside him, and he hastened to the fireplace to retrieve the hot water. He poured the water over the herbs, and left the mixture to infuse in the cup as he doused the fire. Another soft whimper from Legolas, and Elrond placed a hand on the prince's shoulder, squeezing gently and calling his name. Legolas' eyelids flickered and awareness entered the blue orbs, along with a mixture of confusion and pain. He looked around wildly before his eyes locked with Elrond's.  
  
"It's alright, pen-neth, you are safe," Elrond coaxed, his voice low and gentle, as if he spoke to a frightened forest creature, not an elf he had known for centuries. Seeking to reassure him, Elrond quietly began rubbing the knuckles on Legolas' right hand, hoping the action might relax him. "I've made you some tea- it should help with the pain. You will be in pain for some time I'm afraid."  
  
He left his ministrations to pick up the tea, turning back in time to see Legolas flinch and bite his lip to keep from crying out as another wave of pain coursed through his body. Carefully propping him up on the cushions, Elrond held the cup to the blonde's lips, encouraging him to drink the hot tea. The taste was bitter but Legolas forced it down, preferring it to the agony consuming his body at that moment. When the cup was drained, Elrond placed a hand on the prince's brow again, checking his temperature again.  
  
"Where does it hurt the most, Legolas?" Legolas twitched again. "Chest. it burns," he gasped out, trying to concentrate on Elrond's words. Where was Glorfindel? Why wasn't he here, comforting him? Why did he do this to him in the first place. Love wasn't supposed to be like this. A pain that was nothing to do with his cracked ribs gripped his heart, almost making Legolas cry out with its intensity. "It's not supposed to be like this," he whispered aloud.  
  
Ever astute, Elrond immediately understood his meaning, and seized the chance to get through to the elf he had come to view as a son. "No one would think any less of you pen-neth. This is a form of abuse. Don't keep this inside." Legolas looked almost panicked and Elrond quickly continued. "If ever the time comes when you need a way out, know that I will support you no matter what."  
  
At his last words, Elrond was certain he saw a flicker of longing in Legolas' eyes, but in an instant it was gone. Looking down at the coverlet again, Legolas spoke so quietly Elrond had to lean forward to catch his words. "Please, I would like to sleep again now." Elrond swallowed his disappointment. "As you wish."  
  
Crossing to the cupboard again, he slid open a drawer and removed a small cone of incense, a tiny dish, and a box of matches. Silently, he placed the cone in the middle of the dish and lit the tip, blowing out the flame and leaving the cone to smoulder, producing a delicate purple smoke. Immune to its effects after many thousands of years of exposure, Elrond returned to Legolas' bedside with the quick-burning incense and held it a few inches beneath the prince's nose. "Breathe deeply," he instructed. Legolas complied and before long his eyelids began to droop. Soon they were closed in the deep healing sleep induced by the poppy incense.  
  
Elrond set the dish on the commode and let the remainder of the incense burn itself out. He was a little disappointed at Legolas' refusal of his offer of help, though he hadn't truly expected him to take him up on it. What was important was that he knew help was at hand if he needed it, and judging from the fleeting expression Elrond had caught on the blonde's face, the first seeds of doubt had been sown in his mind.  
  
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Chapter 7  
  
Six weeks had passed since the harrowing day that would be forever etched in Elrohir's mind, images of the battered prince still haunting him. Since then, he had spent more time with Legolas than ever before, helping to relieve the excruciating boredom of confinement in a sick room for weeks on end. He had started off reading and talking to him, helping him to eat, wash and dress. Then as the blonde healed and became more independent, able to sit up alone and move his arms without pain, they played chess and checkers for hours on end. Over the last two weeks the pair had walked together in the hospital gardens, letting Legolas stretch his stiff limbs.  
  
Elrohir grew closer to Legolas than he ever imagined he would; listening to him talk of his family, of living in the shadow of his many brothers, and even a little about the beginnings of his relationship with Glorfindel. Elrohir in turn told him of pain at his at his mother's absence, his guilt at not finding her sooner, and his feelings that his father had distanced himself from Elladan and he since her passing; things he had not even told Elladan, his twin and the other half of his soul.  
  
The more time they spent together, the more his secret, unrequited love gnawed painfully at his heart. At night his dreams were possessed by gold hair and hot, smooth skin, setting his entire body aflame. Every inch of him felt drawn tight as a bowstring, but he knew his longing for the prince was more than base lust. Imladris' temperate summer felt grey and lifeless when the prince wasn't by his side to enjoy it. However, Legolas was oblivious to his most ardent admirer; there were others seeking to hold his heart.  
  
Throughout the six weeks Legolas spent recuperating, Glorfindel had been the most attentive of lovers- kind and considerate, visiting frequently and spending and spending hours by the prince's side, showering him with gifts. Again and again he swore he would change, that he would stop drinking, would never lift a hand to Legolas again.  
  
Legolas consented to give him another chance immediately, happily agreeing to Glorfindel's plea for him to move back to their shared quarters as soon as he was able to leave the healing wing. Elrohir did not share the prince's faith, however; his suspicions ran too deep for him to swallow Glorfindel's earnestly delivered promises. He knew from experience that some things in life never change.  
  
He watched as the prince's deft fingers ran the brush through gold strands, easing out invisible knots and leaving his hair a shining, silken mass. From his seat on the bed Elrohir longed to reach up and touch it, but held himself firmly in check, focusing his mind of Legolas' forthcoming departure. Elrond had examined the blonde and declared that providing he rested and was careful not to over-exert himself, Legolas was free to return to his own chambers.  
  
Elrond had spent long hours with the prince these last weeks, talking about Glorfindel, but apparently to no avail, as Legolas jumped at the chance to return to his lover. Elrohir helped pack his possessions with a heavy heart and now sat waiting with the prince for Lord Glorfindel to collect him and bring him home.  
  
The silence in the room was deafening, and after a time, Elrohir could bear it no longer. "Don't go back to him, please mellon." Legolas turned to face him, wearing a wistful expression. "I know you must think me weak, Elrohir, and I am. I love him; I'm sorry, but I do. He's going to change for me El, he promised."  
  
Elrohir shook his head sorrowfully. "People don't change overnight, Legolas."  
  
Legolas looked set to reply when Glorfindel stepping into the room, a benevolent smile gracing his features, interrupted them. Elrohir looked up waspishly- the oaf hadn't even knocked. The blonde lord bent down to kiss Legolas, and the flicker of irritation in Elrohir flared up into anger, making his lips thin dangerously and his fists clench the bed sheets. How dare he? That brute wasn't fit to tie the laces on Legolas' boot after what he did to him.  
  
Glorfindel broke the kiss, and looked up as if seeing Elrohir for the first time. Amusement played across his face for a moment, then a gloating smile fixed itself on his features, mocking Elrohir's obvious jealousy. "Thank you for taking such good care of him, pen-neth," Glorfindel drawled, "it is nice to see such a devoted friend." Elrohir prickled a little at the extra emphasis on the word 'friend.' That bastard knew. Glorfindel smirked and turned to a now-confused Legolas, and picked up the prince's small suitcase. "Come, love." Legolas rose and Glorfindel immediately wrapped a possessive arm round his waist. As his lover guided him to the door, Legolas craned his neck round to shoot an apologetic glance in Elrohir's direction. He was able to whisper 'thank you' as Glorfindel ferried him out into the corridor, then the door shut behind him. He felt Glorfindelgive his waist a squeeze, and let himself be directed, hardly seeing, to their chambers.  
  
Once inside, Legolas began to relax. Familiarity set him at ease, and he breathed deeply, inhaling his lover's musky scent in the air. After weeks in the Healing House, it was a relief to be surrounded by home comforts once again. Glorfindel took his small bag through to their bedroom, and Legolas carefully lowered himself into a chair, his injuries still limiting his movements. He sighed with relief as he sunk back into the upholstery- he was amazed how tired he felt after such a short journey from his sick room. Legolas was looking forward to a nice, long, hot bath to ease his aching muscles, and a few hours simply enjoying his lover's company.  
  
Glorfindel re-entered and circled round to stand behind Legolas. His arms snaked down to the prince's shoulders, hands kneading the muscles beneath. Legolas sighed blissfully and relaxed, blotting out all thoughts save those focusing on the pleasant sensations.  
  
Glorfindel's hands worked out the tension in his neck, then moved round to the front and slid down to rest just beneath Legolas' collarbones. Legolas made a soft, disappointed noise when he felt the massage stop and looked up questioningly at his lover. Glorfindel chuckled softly, and proceeded to tease the pointed tip of Legolas' ear, distracting him while the Elda spoke.  
  
"I'm afraid I must leave you now, I still have a pile of paperwork awaiting me in my office. Elrond has not reduced my duties as seneschal any, despitre my request that he allow me to spen more time wit you as you recover."  
  
From within a haze of pleasure, Legolas was able to make out the general idea of his lover's sentence, and looked up sharply, dismayed. "But I thought- ooh." Legolas moaned as Glorfindel stepped up his assault on his ear. Glorfindel smirked, watching him writhing in his seat, and knowing he was the one controlling him. Legolas felt his member stir- it had been far too long, and his body was eager to release the tension that had built up during his stay in the Healing house.  
  
Glorfindel reached for the laces of Legolas' tunic, untying them and pulling the tunic open. His fingers slid down, circling the pink nipples revealed to them, and Legolas' breath hitched. Glorfindel rolled the pink nubs between his fingers, making them stand out like berries and causing the prince to gasp and squirm. Suddenly he pinched them gently and Legolas mewled, hips bucking blindly and his hands clenching the arms of the chair.  
  
Glorfindel's smirk grew as he saw his young lover spread his legs on the seat to accommodate the growing weight between his thighs. Abruptly, he removed his hands and stepped away from the chair, leaving Legolas reeling. The prince moaned in displeasure and turned desperately towards his tormentor, begging silently for him to finish the job.  
  
The Elda simply smiled innocently, reaching for his cloak. "I shall return this evening. Until then, make yourself at home, try to rest."  
  
He turned on his heel and walked smartly to the door. Just as he was about to twist the handle, Glorfindel looked briefly back to Legolas, whose hand was creeping down towards the source of his tension. "Oh, and you are not allowed to touch yourself while I am gone. Only I am allowed to bring you release. I want you ready and wanting for my return." With that he left the room, leaving a needy and frustrated Legolas gaping after him in disbelief. Not allowed to tounch himself? His arousal twitched again and he groaned. His whole body felt aflame, all sensation seemed to be focused in the arousal between his legs.  
  
There was only one thing for it. He rose from the chair, biting back a moan when the fabric of his breeches rubbed against his erection. Walking awkwardly to the bathroom, he braced himself for the discomfort of a *very* cold bath  
  
* * *  
  
Elladan watched his twin out of the corner of his eye, as he had done since they sat down to dinner with Elrond. So far, he noted, Elrohir had cut all his food into small pieces, pushed the pieces aimlessly around his plate, and speared the odd lump of meat with his fork, but a single piece had yet to actually find its way into his mouth.  
  
Erestor was talking animatedly on Elrohir's right about new defence plans he hoped to implement in the coming autumn, but Elladan could tell from the look on his twin's face that he hadn't actually heard a single word of the councillor's prattle. In fact, Elrohir hardly even seemed aware of the presence of the other diners, so lost in his thoughts was he.  
  
After a time, Elrohir rose and begged permission to leave the table. Elrond, distracted by juggling three conversations simultaneously, was quick to grant it, and Elrohir scurried out of the noisy dining room. Elladan immediately followed suit and hastened after his brother. He followed silently through the Great Hall and into the South Wing, a labyrinth of winding corridors.  
  
He soon lost sight of Elrohir, and came to a fork in the hallway, two identical, empty corridors leading in opposite directions. Hesitating, he considered his brother's likely cause of action. His room was in the West Wing, so the only reasons he might be coming here were either the public baths, or.  
  
Elladan grinned triumphantly; confident he knew where his brother would be. Picking the left fork, he sped silently down the corridor until he came to a set of double doors; dark mahogany set with stained glass. Pushing them open, he stepped out into the cool evening breeze, enjoying the feel of it caressing his skin. He knew exactly where to go.  
  
Walking through the trees and bushes, Elladan came to a halt on the edge of a clearing. Sure enough, there inside their mother's private garden, was Elrohir. He at on a stone bench beside a lilac tree- their mother's favourite- with shoulders slumped. It was a place he always came to when troubled or sad, drawing some small comfort in the happy memories the place held. It was a small piece of Lothlorien here in Imladris, and Celebrían had spent hours during her time in the valley tending it. Elladan had lost count of the number of times he's found his younger twin sitting here in the months immediately after Celebrían sailed, clinging desperately to this last part of his mother he had left.  
  
Elladan crossed quietly to sit beside his brother. He placed a hand lightly on Elrohir's knee, and looked into his brother's troubled face. Elrohir gave no response, still staring out across the grass. "You've been tense, distracted of late. You're not eating, you've been so listless- I'm worried for you. Please brother, tell me what is wrong."  
  
Elrohir's face remained blank, and he spoke not a word. "Please Elrohir, talk to me." Elrohir turned, the first indication that he had even acknowledged Elladan's presence. "It's nothing." Elladan raised an incredulous eyebrow. "It is clearly not nothing. Elrohir, tell me." Elrohir gave a deep, melodramatic sigh, and his face contorted as if in pain. "You must swear never to tell another soul. Promise me Elladan!" When Elladan nodded tentatively, Elrohir continued, a tormented look in his grey eyes.  
  
"I'm in love with Legolas."  
  
Elladan's jaw visibly dropped, eyes widening in shock. "How long?" he blurted out. "Long enough." Sadness tinged Elrohir's voice. "I'm worried about him, Ell, I really am. Glorfindel hasn't changed, he's just using Legolas! I don't trust him."  
  
He calmed himself, swallowing and breathing heavily, voice dropping. "Legolas' heart will break, Elladan. And I will fade soon after." Elladan sat up in alarm, seeing his brother anew. "Elrohir, come, you can't be serious. Besides, perhaps we should give Glorfindel a chance. He really may have changed for the better." Elrohir looked up bitterly. "He's never going to change, Ell. Today I saw him out walking the corridors when he was supposed to be home, caring for Legolas- Ada even gave all his duties to Erestor! He doesn't care about him."  
  
Elladan winced at the anger and resentment in his twin's voice, and squeezed his knee reassuringly. "Elrohir, Glorfindel may simply have been fetching him some food from the kitchens, you just do not know." He smiled placating. "Give him a chance brother. Anyway, perhaps this is just a passing infatuation." A new thought struck him. "Are you sure you aren't letting your emotions cloud your judgement?"  
  
"I suppose," said Elrohir, not sounding at all convinced. He looked into the distance again, surveying his mother's sanctuary. "I think I would like to be alone now, brother." Stung, Elladan nodded silently and left the garden. They had shared everything before now, and it hurt that Elrohir would shut him out of this.  
  
That night, in his room next to Elrohir's he tossed and turned, unable to sleep, and by the time dawn had broken over the valley, he still had not heard his brother coming in. 


	4. Chapters 8 to 10

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)  
  
Author: Quellecristiel  
  
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
Chapter 8  
  
"Achoo!"  
  
Legolas groaned loudly and flopped back bonelessly against the pillows, exhausted. He had woken up feeling hot and sticky, with a throbbing head and blocked nose and had immediately turned to Glorfindel for help. Once he had finally persuaded his reluctant lover out of bed to fetch a healer, Legolas had begun sneezing, a completely new sensation for him. And, he decided, an altogether unpleasant one, as it felt much like the front of his head was about to explode.  
  
A grumbling Glorfindel dispatched to the healers, Legolas was left alone in bed; coughing, sniffing, sneezing and generally feeling sorry for himself. "A..a..achoo!" Legolas growled in frustration. 'This is ridiculous,' he thought crossly, 'elves don't get colds!'  
  
Which is exactly what he had said to Elrond when he arrived and pronounced that somehow, Legolas had contracted a chest cold. Finishing up his examination, Elrond had simply raised a dark, elegant eyebrow, as if reproaching the prince for questioning his judgement.  
  
He had probed about how Legolas had managed to catch a chill in the few short hours since his discharge, asking if he had been exposed to any cold water, making Glorfindel smirk knowingly and Legolas squirm uncomfortably in his bed. Elrond had appeared suspicious, but questioned no further, evidently deciding that he didn't want to know.  
  
Instead, he issued a stern warning that Legolas' weakened lungs made him vulnerable to colds and infection until he had fully healed, and threatened that if he didn't stay in bed until further notice, Legolas would find himself tied to a bed in the Healing House.  
  
Feeling suitably chastised, Legolas had meekly assured Elrond of his obedience and submitted to the various foul-tasting concoction the half-elf had prescribed. He had been relieved when the lore master had left, but soon began to reassess his opinion. Glorfindel had left soon after for a hunting trip and wouldn't be back until after sundown, leaving the prince quite alone. He played distractedly with the sapphire ring on his finger, twisting it aimlessly.  
  
Elrond had evidently told his sons of Legolas' sorry state, as within the hour of Glorfindel's departure, Elrohir had arrived in his full leather and burgundy uniform, clearly due to leave for the border patrol. 'Just as I as about to sleep,' Legolas thought crossly. An hour with nothing to distract him from the strange and deeply disagreeable sensations brought on by a cold (something like having an orc sitting on your chest, he had now decided), and Legolas was feeling greatly out-of-sorts.  
  
However, if he was hoping for sympathy and companionship from Elrohir, Legolas was sadly disappointed. Instead, Elrohir had merely stopped by on his way to the guardhouse to castigate the blonde for not taking better heed of his health, before delivering several dire warnings of pneumonia and bronchitis if the prince did not remain confined to bed for at least a week.  
  
Elrohir had at least offered a glass of water to the parched elf, but all gratitude Legolas had felt soon evaporated when Elrohir began to mutter darkly about how the entire episode showed that Glorfindel wasn't properly taking care of the prince.  
  
Though he knew Elrohir meant well, Legolas was incensed, out of loyalty to Glorfindel and his own pride. He was sick and tired of the peredhel's mollycoddling- he was quite capable of taking care of himself. Elrohir had apologised without sounding particularly convinced, and even now, hours after the dark-haired elf had left for the eastern border, Legolas' resentment was smouldering. The glass of water left by Elrohir was now also empty, and the throbbing in Legolas' head had increased tenfold, adding to the prince's choler. He turned on his side and sunk heavily into the mattress, sulking at the injustice of it all.  
  
With his new view of the room, a small corner of thick parchment caught his eye, half-hidden beneath a book on the commode. Curious, Legolas reached out his hand to tug at the paper, eventually managing to extricate it from beneath the book.  
  
Recognition made Legolas suddenly feel hotter that he already was, and a knot of guilt formed in his stomach. He ran his thumb over the royal seal of Greenwood, now broken. He knew he should reply, had known it when he first opened the letter the previous night, but what could he say? He also knew he would have to said some sort of word soon, as judging by the worried tone of his father's letter, Thranduil was on the verge of riding over to Imladris himself.  
  
The concern and hurt that he had sent no word home came through clearly in the letter, making Legolas feel even worse than he had before. *Your family miss you, when will you come home? * Legolas hadn't the heart to tell them that he couldn't come to see them, that Glorfindel wanted him to sever all contact with Greenwood. It was why he had hidden the letter in the first place, and why he hadn't seen his brothers in a century. There were anxious inquiries about his health and the cause and severity of his injuries- a development Legolas assumed Elrond must have informed them of- all questions that deserved answers.  
  
But they would have to wait. Legolas dispiritedly tucked the envelope into the top drawer of the commode, promising himself that he would get round to replying soon.  
  
Chapter 9  
  
Legolas looked himself up and down in the mirror with a critical eye. No, the light blue was better. This one made him look even paler than usual.  
  
He laid aside the navy robe he had been holding up and picked up the pale one again. Where once he would have thrown on the first suitable garment in his path, he now had to carefully consider his choice. He was still wan and pale from his newly-recovered-from cold, and over his seven weeks of recuperation from his various injuries, he had also lost a good deal of weight.  
  
All sorts of rumours had been flying around since he had collapsed outside the stables and news of his recent illness had only added to the furious gossip. Much as Legolas pretended that the rumours didn't bother him, he was still keen to dispel them by appearing tonight at the New Year Revels looking as normal and healthy as possible.  
  
The revel that night would be the first time the prince was allowed to leave his 'rest' in he and his lover's quarters. And none too soon- being shut up in that place was beginning to give Legolas cabin fever. Actually, on second thoughts, the paler blue actually made him look washed out.  
  
Legolas shook himself- if he was starting to think like this, he had definitely been cooped up too long. Elrond's special permission to attend the revel had been obtained, and hopefully, if he survived the night unscathed, the half-elf's good will might be extended to cover daytime excursions.  
  
He settled at last for a long, loose green robe he had bought from his forest home, and slipped into it. "Green suits you." Legolas whirled around to see Glorfindel standing in the doorway, leaning languidly against the frame. The prince suddenly had a strange feeling that the Elda had been watching him the whole time. He was startled to find that the thought actually unsettled him.  
  
The blonde lord looked resplendent in crimson velvet, a gold circlet gleaming on his brow. Tight black breeches accented his well-muscled legs and complimented the deep red of his tunic- in short he looked stunning. But somehow, the sight, which would have once quickened his blood, now left Legolas cold. Telling himself that he was only feeling tired and out-of- sorts from these weeks of solitude and inactivity, Legolas did his best to appear enthusiastic. "I am ready."  
  
He joined Glorfindel in the doorway and remained passive as the Elda's arm assumed it's usual position, wrapped firmly around Legolas' waist. Legolas soon found the pressure constrictive and was forced to fight the urge to peel the arm away and walk by himself. Why did Glorfindel always have to lead him around like he was a puppy?  
  
As they entered the Great Hall, Legolas forgot all his frustrations. The hall was decked out in a thousand colours, paper lanterns and flower garlands hanging from every possible perch. The room was packed with elves merrymaking and the sound of music and singing filled the air. Everyone was dressed in their finery, and taking full advantage of all that was on offer; dancing, singing and drinking with friends. Despite his tiredness, the bustling atmosphere made Legolas grin with excitement.  
  
"I'll go get us something to drink."  
Legolas nodded distractedly and moved off into the crowd as Glorfindel left in search of refreshments. He scanned the hall for people he knew, but was unable to recognise any of his friends in the mass of colourful robes and milling bodies.  
  
Legolas was beginning to feel the curious stares of the guests surrounding him, their eyes boring into his back. He was sure he could hear people whispering when his back was turned, speculating over his thinner frame and long convalescence. How weak they must think him. Oh, Gods, what if they knew? Panic was beginning to creep into the prince's mind, turning his chest to stone, when a voice from behind broke through his tangled thoughts. "Legolas!" He knew that voice, but surely it couldn't be-  
  
Legolas spun around to face the voice's owner, a grin breaking out on his pale face. Before him stood a tall, broad-shouldered elf with long auburn hair in ornate braids. He wore a matching grin and was dressed in a rich, midnight blue robe, lovingly embroidered in silver, and setting off his blue eyes nicely. Legolas could scarcely believe his eyes.  
  
"Silinde!" He gazed at his childhood friend, almost lost for words. The other elf enfolded Legolas in a big bear hug, chuckling merrily at the prince's surprise. "It has been far too long, friend." With one last squeeze, Silinde stepped back, concern knitting his brow. "You've lost weight. I can feel all of your ribs." Legolas shrugged self-consciously before quickly changing the subject.  
  
"When did you arrive in the valley? How long can you stay?" It would be wonderful to catch up with the news from the Greenwood. "Alas, I cannot stay. I am riding as your father's messenger to Lorien, and I only stopped by on the way to enjoy some company on New Year's Eve. I leave later this very night." Legolas heart sank in disappointment. "The twins," Silinde continued, a twinkle of amusement entering his eyes, "were kind enough to lend me a robe for the celebrations tonight, so I do not shame myself in my dusty travel clothes before great persons such as yourself, your Royal Highness," delivering a mock bow, eliciting laughter from behind.  
  
Legolas rolled his eyes playfully, and then looked over Silinde's shoulder. Only now did he realise that Elrohir and Elladan were also present, standing a polite distance away as the Greenwood elves greeted each other. Elladan stepped forward. "It's good to see you up and about again, Legolas," he offered, before being silenced by a sharp elbow in his side, courtesy of Elrohir.  
  
Legolas shot Elrohir a grateful look, but the damage was already done. Silinde looked at Legolas suspiciously. "You've been ill? Legolas, what's going on?" Sensing the curiosity of the other revellers, many of whom were now discreetly trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, Legolas shifted uncomfortably. Picking up on the blonde's unease, Silinde lowered his voice. "Is there somewhere we can talk?"  
  
"This way"  
Legolas nodded apologetically to Elrohir and Elladan, the latter of whom was looking distinctly sheepish, and led Silinde through the throngs of people out to the veranda. From there, they went down the small set of steps into the gardens, eventually settling on a bench beneath an ivy trellis, shielded from prying eyes.  
  
As they sat down together, Silinde immediately turned to the prince. "What did he mean? And what's this about you being injured? We received a letter from Lord Elrond; he said you'd been hurt but he didn't say how. Your father wrote, but you never replied." Legolas winced at the accusation in his friend's tone. "It's nothing serious Silinde, I swear. I just got into a fight." Silinde snorted. "Funny, when I asked Elrohir, he told me you'd fallen down the stairs." Legolas groaned inwardly. He should have thought to get his story straight.  
  
"Honestly, Silinde, it was nothing. And I was barely ill; it was only a cold. Elrond did make me stay in bed for a week- which is what Elladan referred to- but he was being overprotective." Silinde shot him a withering glare. "Elves don't get sick unless they're already badly weakened, Legolas. Why won't you tell me what is going on? Don't you trust me anymore?" The hurt in Silinde's tone made Legolas sigh. "It's not that, I swear mellon. I. I just can't talk about this. I'm sorry," he finished lamely. Silinde turned away, gazing out into the twilight. "Why do you never come home, Legolas? Your family misses you." "I know."  
  
For a while they sat in awkward silence, avoiding each other's gaze, until Legolas could bear the tension in the air no longer. Reaching out to clasp Silinde's hand, he looked up pleadingly at his friend. "Please, Silinde, let's not ruin tonight. It's been so long, can't we just enjoy this time together?" Silinde's heart melted at the misery in Legolas' face and smiled. "Of course, you are right." He rose, pulling Legolas up with him. "Lets go back inside." Legolas breathed a sigh of relief and eagerly complied, linking arms with his friend as they made their way inside to join the other revellers.  
  
Back inside the Great Hall, the twins were waiting for them, drinks in hand. As Elrohir passed him a goblet of wine, Legolas' heart skipped a beat. Where was Glorfindel? He had left to find drink before Legolas wandered off. Frantically scanning the crowd, Legolas began feeling panicky- Glorfindel was nowhere to be seen. "Legolas?" A look of concern and curiosity was on Elrohir's face. "Have you seen Glorfindel? He was supposed to be getting drinks, I completely forgot." He couldn't disguise the anguish and anxiety in his voice, and Silinde frowned. "Who is Glorfindel? Surely you don't mean-" "Yes, the balrog slayer," Elrohir cut in impatiently, trying to focus on Legolas, who was now looking very white and anxious. "Relax, he will come and find you. He's probably got distracted himself, talking to old friends." "I guess," Legolas concurred uneasily. The younger twin was probably right- it would be a very typical thing for Glorfindel to do- but he still felt vaguely worried. The Elda had returned with drinks to find him gone, Legolas could be sure his temper would be roused.  
  
The sharp chiming of metal against crystal interrupted the prince's gloomy thoughts. A hush descended on the room and all turned to face Lord Elrond, standing on the high dais clearing his throat. The lore master looked impressive in his velvet robes of office and mithril coronet, but his intimidating majesty was belied by his genial smile. "Friends, welcome one and all to the New Year Revels!" Applause greeted his opening statement, and Elrond held up his arms for quiet. "Carouse, dance and be merry, for today we celebrate the passing of the old and the beginning of the new. Let all indulge themselves in whatever pursuit their addiction may lead them to," he gestured to the musicians, "strike up, let the Revels begin!"  
  
The minstrels began to play and a dance tune filled the air. "Will you dance?" Legolas looked up in surprise at Silinde's questioning face. He took one last look around the hall, and seeing Glorfindel nowhere, put his drink down and tentatively allowed his old friend to lead him onto the dance floor and into a spirited waltz. Letting Silinde lead and giving himself over to the music, the prince began to relax. They spun happily around the hall, enjoying each other's much missed company, and when the first song ended, Legolas was reluctant to stop. He next gave each of the twins a dance, before insisting, exhausted, that they sit a while.  
  
In the far corner of the hall they settled together, tired but laughing and joking, all thought of Glorfindel fled from Legolas' thoughts. With the prince deep in conversation with Elrohir, Silinde murmured quietly in Elladan's ear, so as not to alert the blonde. "What's going on? What does Glorfindel have to do with Legolas?" "He has been Legolas' lover since he arrived in Imladris," the elder twin replied, equally cautious. The auburn-haired elf cocked an incredulous eyebrow. "If that is the case, then why did he pale with worry at the thought of his wrath?" Silinde snarled, exasperated, "Why does no one tell me what is going on?" Elladan shrugged non-committaly. "That is something for Legolas to tell you, when he is ready."  
  
Silinde glanced over at Legolas to make sure the blonde was still chatting happily with the younger twin. "Will you at least tell me if Glorfindel is the reason Legolas hasn't contacted his family in over a century?" "I really think you need to talk to Legolas about this," he whispered evasively, causing Silinde's lips to purse in displeasure. A particularly scathing comment was on the tip of his tongue but a sharp kick from Elladan alerted him to the fact that Elrohir and Legolas had finished their conversation and were looking at the other pair curiously. Silinde bit his tongue and rescued the uncomfortable moment by smiling broadly at the prince and steering the conversation towards safer ground.  
  
"Shall I tell you the news from Greenwood?" Legolas' face instantly lit up and he nodded vehemently. "Please do," he replied eagerly, "it's been so long." Silinde took a long drink from his goblet and settled himself comfortably in his chair, preparing for a long tale.  
  
As Legolas listened, transfixed, to Silinde's words, Elrohir felt a gentle tugging at the back of his robes. Sliding back discretely on the cushions he sat on, Elrohir moved to join his twin, putting a little distance between the Greenwood elves and themselves. He bent his lips to his brother's ear. "What is it Elladan?" "Silinde suspects something. He knows it is Glorfindel who has been cutting Legolas off from the Greenwood all these years," Elladan breathed back, "He seems to distrust Glorfindel." Elrohir did his best to appear scathing without attracting the other elves' attention. "With good reason." "Perhaps," Elladan replied, a trace of irritation audible, "but you know he has the king's ear. It will do no good to start a diplomatic row between our realms. If he convinces Thranduil that an Imaldrin lord is holding his son hostage - however accurate that might be," he added quickly, seeing the look on his brother's face, "we may have an extremely angry king accusing us of complicity. He may even decide Legolas is a prisoner here."  
  
Reluctantly, Elrohir had to agree that the older twin had a point. "So what do you propose we do about it?" Elladan looked embarrassed. "Well, I hadn't actually thought of that yet." Elrohir rolled his eyes. "Wonderful. You get me all worried and anxious, and then don't even have a solution. Thanks, brother, next time leave me happy in my ignorance." Elladan looked hurt. "You don't have any outstanding ideas yourself, Elrohir. And anyway, there is one thing we can do- we can warn father."  
  
Elrohir nodded- why hadn't he thought of that? Elladan gave him a smug look and he turned, pretending not to see, suddenly very interested in the goings-on of Greenwood. Silinde was just finishing his report, and yawned deeply, stretching in his seat like a cat. "Alas friends, I must leave you now, I am required in Lorien before the month is up." Legolas was dismayed. "Must you go already?" Silinde got to his feet, brushing the creases from the velvet of his robe. "I'm afraid so, gwador. To hear more news from home, you will just have to come back and visit." Legolas stood and embraced his friend. "Come home soon, won't you Legolas?" Legolas smiled weakly and nodded at Silinde's quiet plea. "I will try."  
  
Elladan rose and cleared his throat. "I'll show you back to my room so you can change." "Thank you." Silinde turned to Elrohir and Legolas. "Farewell my friends." Legolas managed a faint smile, sorry to lose his friend. "May you have a safe journey." Elrohir stepped forward and clasped Silinde's hand warmly. "Farewell meldir, it was good to see you again." Legolas watched sadly as Elladan and Silinde wound through the crowd and disappeared from sight. He hadn't realised how much he missed his forest home until tonight. Sensing the prince's sorrow, Elrohir laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You will see them all again. There is nothing to stop you going home for a while."  
  
Legolas' heart jumped- Glorfindel. In his excitement, the prince had entirely forgotten about the older lord. After his initial unease he hadn't missed the Elda all evening, but his failure to appear was now beginning to worry Legolas. Pulling himself together, he turned his head to acknowledge Elrohir. "You are right; perhaps it is time to pay a visit home." Anxiety gnawing at him, Legolas quickly made his excuses. "I'm still feeling a little tired, I think I will retire." Elrohir's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Already? But the night is barely begun!" Legolas shifted impatiently, anxious to find Glorfindel and head off the row he feared would be coming. "I want to rest, sorry." He took a deep breath, ensuring his face remained calm. "I'll see you in the morning, thank you for a wonderful evening." "Sleep well, Legolas." Elrohir was wary, but didn't voice his suspicions. He embraced his friend and allowed the blonde to scurry away towards the door, his haste betraying his assertion that he was weary. Elrohir wasn't fooled by Legolas' pretence- this was about Glorfindel and he knew it.  
  
Across the room, Elladan was pushing his way through the throngs of elves to his twin. Elrohir waved in greeting as his brother drew near. Elladan finally managed to reach him, and immediately glanced with confusion over his shoulder. "Where is Legolas?" "He went back to his quarters." Elladan made a face. "Already?" He shook his head, as if brushing the entire matter aside. "But anyway, listen- I've spoken to father." "And?" "I was getting to that," the elder twin snapped irritably. "I told him about Silinde; he seemed troubled. He said he was going to write to Thranduil himself, so we may be receiving a host from the Greenwood after all." "And none too soon," Elrohir replied grimly, "perhaps if his family see what is happening, they will succeed in persuading him where we have failed."  
  
Chapter 10  
  
Legolas' stomach churned as his hand stilled over the door handle. Something was wrong, he was certain of it. The ominous feeling in the pit of his stomach threatened to make him ill, but he steadied his hand and swallowed the rising bile. The fact that Glorfindel had simply disappeared instead of coming to chastise him rattled Legolas; although he told himself Glorfindel had changed the familiar fear had returned with a vengeance. Summoning all his courage, he clasped the door handle firmly. Perhaps he could just creep in unnoticed? He willed his hand to stop shaking and turned the handle, pushing the door slightly ajar.  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
Breathing a sigh of relief, Legolas pushed the door open and stepped inside. A cry of pain filled the air as a fist rammed into the side of Legolas' face and he was slammed against a wall. Legolas heard the door bang shut and began to shake uncontrollably again. The pungent smell of alcohol breath filled his nose and his heart broke at the realisation that he was trapped, that it was all going to happen just as it had before. Glorfindel backhanded the prince, sending him sprawling on the floor. Blood ran from Legolas' temple where his head had hit the floor, and it seemed to the prince that his head was gripped in a vice.  
  
Betrayed, Legolas tried to speak but was silenced by a sharp kick from Glorfindel. "Silence, whore! You're nothing but a common little slut." Legolas flinched as the older lord spat in his face, and finally found his voice. "Please, I never... I don't know-" a brutal hand in his hair, yanking him to his feet, cut him off. "I did not give you permission to speak, whore. I saw you tonight with that messenger, dancing. His hands were all over you. And your precious Elrohir. He wants you, you know, lusts for you. He can't keep his eyes off you," he snarled. Legolas would have laughed if he hadn't been so afraid. Glorfindel was jealous of Silinde? And Elrohir? They had been his friends from childhood. He struggled to speak as a blow knocked the wind out of him. "Glorfindel, I swear-" "SILENCE!" The blonde lord roared, eyes bulging and face turning purple in fury. Gone was the handsome, charming, refined elf that Legolas once knew; in his place was this hideous, terrifying monster. A strong hand fastened around Legolas' neck, choking the air out of him, and the prince braced himself for further blows. What Glorfindel did next was the last thing Legolas had expected.  
  
The Elda pushed him back against the wall and pinned him firmly with one arm. With his free hand he ripped open the front of the prince's robes and ran possessive fingers over the younger elf's chest. "You are mine, pen-neth, and I think you need to be reminded of it." He drew a slim knife from his belt and held it up for the prince to see. Legolas trembled as Glorfindel traced a red line down his chest and abdomen, stopping just below his naval. He held his breath, waiting for the Elda's next move. Legolas bit his lip to keep from crying out as Glorfindel suddenly slashed diagonally across his right nipple, beads of blood welling up along the long red gash. The blade left his skin momentarily and Legolas found himself being flipped round to face his captor. Glorfindel's eyes were black and cold- there was no trace of the warmth and affection they had held, once upon a time. The fist in Legolas' hair tightened threateningly. "On your knees."  
  
Legolas was left no choice but to obey when the hand yanked downwards, unbalancing him and sending him to the floor. The knife immediately reappeared, pressing dangerously into the prince's throat. From his place on the stone flagstones, Legolas was now eyelevel with Glorfindel's straining arousal, pressing against the laces of his breeches. Legolas' heartbeat quickened, the awful reality of his situation sinking in. His captor's hand loosed its grip on Legolas' scalp, and reached down to untie the laces, freeing Glorfindel's erection from the confines of his leggings. "Try anything and you die." Legolas felt acutely the cold steel at his throat and remained still, scarcely daring to breathe though his heart hammered in his chest. Grabbing the back of his head, Glorfindel forced Legolas' face forwards until the head of the Elda's erection pressed at the prince's lips. "Suck."  
  
Feeling the constant pressure of the dagger, Legolas parted his lips and let Glorfindel thrust into the warm depth of his mouth. He tried not to gag as the head of the Elda's engorged member pressed at the back of his throat. This couldn't be happening to him.  
  
Glorfindel's thrusts became wilder and more erratic, and Legolas braced himself, expecting to have to swallow the older lord's hot semen. He was surprised when Glorfindel stilled and pulled out, still hard. "Face the wall, stay kneeling." Knowing the Elda could easily slit his throat, Legolas slowly complied, the knife following him round. "I've been waiting for you princeling, planning what I could do to you." Legolas shivered at the relish in Glorfindel's tone, and closed his eyes tightly. "All the ways you could be punished for your disobedience."  
  
The knife began stroking up and down the side of the prince's neck.  
  
"Put your hands behind your back." Eyes still clenched shut, trying to block out reality, Legolas crossed his wrists behind him. What was Glorfindel going to do? Legolas started as he felt the knife disappear and be replaced by rope at his wrists. "Yes my pet, I came prepared." There was a sadistic smirk in Glorfindel's voice that froze Legolas' blood in his veins. Glorfindel wasn't going to end this quickly- he would take his time until he was satisfied.  
  
Securely tied, his arms were hoisted uncomfortably above the prince's head, with the end of the rope tied fast to an iron torch bracket on the wall above. Legolas felt the dagger against his skin once more, but this time at the base of his back. Glorfindel leaned close enough for Legolas to feel his hot breath, reeking with alcohol, in his ear. "I think, princeling, you need to be shown who you really belong to." In one swift motion, the Elda slit his shirt and robes down the back and tore away the remainder of the robe. Working quickly, he deftly slit both sleeves and tossed aside the ragged remains of the shirt. Running his hands down the prince's newly revealed torso, Glorfindel licked his lips appreciatively. "Flawless." Legolas tried to move away from the possessive hands but was tied in such a way that he was utterly helpless. Glorfindel moved back, and the sound of leather brushing against velvet told Legolas he was removing his belt. The younger elf held his breath, waiting for the pain of leather biting into his flesh.  
  
Crack!  
  
The first blow stung but Legolas bore it in silence, years of practise teaching him endurance.  
  
Crack!  
  
Glorfindel struck again, moving further down his back. The blows came faster now, leaving welts over his lower back. Legolas bit his tongue to keep silent at the fiery pain spreading over his entire back. It had never gone on this long before. Glorfindel re-angled his strokes so that the belt now cut across the welts left by previous blows, leaving blood trickling down Legolas' back. Finally, the prince whimpered loudly as a particularly violent blow left a bloody cut from shoulder to hip. Knowing he had nearly broken him, Glorfindel smiled smugly and lowered the belt in his hand. Fear and anger oozed from Legolas' every pore, and Glorfindel felt himself grow even harder as he surveyed his handiwork.  
  
The knot keeping the rope tied to the bracket was undone but the rope remained looped over it. The Elda pulled down hard, causing Legolas' arms to be yanked upwards painfully, forcing the younger elf to stumble unsteadily to his feet to prevent his shoulders being dislocated. Legolas was hoisted upwards by the rope until he stood on the balls of his feet, effectively leaving him hanging from the rope that bound him. The position of his arms meant he was bent over, his face pressed against the wall, chafing uncomfortably against his skin, and hips thrust back towards Glorfindel. Glorfindel grabbed him by the hair again, twisting his head painfully to face his tormentor. " You are *my* whore, nobody can have you but me." Picking his knife again, Glorfindel cut away the prince's leggings and pulled off his boots, leaving him naked. Legolas flinched in disgust as Glorfindel fondled his buttocks, dipping his fingers into the crack between. The reaction earned him a sharp smack to his right buttock, warning him to show more respect.  
  
Rough hands forced his legs apart, and Legolas felt his face flush, humiliated, as he was fully exposed to Glorfindel's eyes. The hand moved between his legs, probing and exploring every inch of flesh. The Elda had touched him like this before, yes; but this time it was different. This time Legolas only wanted to recoil in disgust. A finger circled his opening and Legolas jerked away as best he could, panicking. "No!" Glorfindel's answer was another ringing slap to his behind. "I told you to be silent!" Glorfindel stood back and the prince sighed in relief as the hated hands left him. The relief was short lived however, as a faint rustling confirmed his worst fear. Stripped of his own clothes, Glorfindel stood behind the younger elf once more, the head of his erection pushed up against Legolas' tight opening. Tremor after tremor shook the young elf's body, terror wringing tears from his eyes. Oh Gods no, please, he wouldn't.  
  
"Glorfindel, plea-" his words were cut off by his own scream as Glorfindel thrust, unlubricated, into his tight channel. There was a fiery agony and he felt his flesh tear as the lord rammed his length mercilessly into him, paying no heed to the blood running down the prince's thighs. Legolas closed his eyes and uttered a desperate prayer to the Valar as Glorfindel continued his assault. After what seemed like hours, but could only have been a few minutes, Glorfindel released inside him, pouring his hot, salty essence into the younger elf's abused passage. The room spun and blackness tinged the edge of the prince's vision, heralding the onset of unconsciousness. Legolas' tortured mind vaguely registered Glorfindel's withdrawal before he passed out, his mind seeking the respite of elven dreams. 


	5. Chapters 11 to 15

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)  
  
Author: Quellecristiel  
  
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
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Chapter 11  
  
This was the final straw, Elrond decided grimly as he led four armed guards, including his youngest son, down the hallway leading to Legolas' and Glorfindel's quarters. He himself was armed with a long, slim knife, but he didn't truly expect to need it- it was his healer's kit that he felt would most likely be required. This time however, he was determined to put an end to Glorfindel's reign of terror whether he had Legolas' cooperation or not. It had been fortunate that Ithiliel had stayed at home to nurse her new babe instead of going with the other elves to the Revels, or there would have been no one present to report the disturbance in the prince's quarters- which, Elrond reflected, was likely to have been Glorfindel's plan. However, the blonde lord had not reckoned on Ithiliel, who had immediately come to Elrond in the Great Hall, reporting loud bangs and shouting from within the pair's quarters, as well as a scream loud enough to wake her baby.  
  
Elrond had wasted no time in assembling a small escort to arrest the Elda, inviting his son Elrohir, who though not on duty, insisted on coming to the prince's aid. Elladan had gone to warn the healers of possible injuries, and the five armed elves had set off for the scene of the disturbance.  
  
Elrond brought them to a halt in front of the prince's door and banged heavily on the wood. "Glorfindel? Open this door immediately!" When silence greeted Elrond's shout, he tried the handle- locked. The lore master nodded to the nearest guard and stood back as he moved in to force the door in. After a few tries the door banged open, allowing the group to step inside. The scene that greeted them made an ominous sickness grow inside the lord of Imladris.  
  
On the floor by the wall was a pool of blood, with a spattering on the floor at the other side of the floor. A rope was tied to one of the torch brackets and now dangles above the blood pool, with fraying pieces lying on the surrounding floor, cut in haste. "Lord Elrond?" Elrond turned to see one of the guards kneeling a few feet away, a slim brown object in his hands; A belt, and on closer inspection, one stained with blood. Elrond's lips thinned. "Search these chambers for Glorfindel- I want him arrested and tied up on the spot. Elrohir- look to Legolas."  
  
The guards, once confused as to their coming here, paled with a sudden understanding. Elrond looked up sharply. "None of you are to speak of what you see here today, unless it is before and inquiry. Now make haste." The group split up to search the suite for the Elda lord, save for Elrond and Elrohir, who together searched instead for the prince, fearing the worst. A shout from the bedroom brought the pair running, but instead of Legolas, they found two guards supporting an unconscious Glorfindel in a semi-upright position, while the third held aloft an empty wine bottle. "The room is full of these, but there is no since of Prince Legolas, my lord." Elrond nodded. "Take him to the cells. Treat him as highly dangerous when he wakes- a guard must be posted at all times." "Aye sir." The guards bowed their heads respectfully and left, dragging the seneschal behind them.  
  
In the silence that followed, Elrond heard the faintest of whimpers, coming from behind the locked closet door. Elrohir's abruptly alert face told him that his son had heard it too and he made his way over to the door. He turned the key in the lock and stepped inside the long-empty, disused walk- in wardrobe, Elrohir close behind him. In the gloom, Elrond could just make out the prince, naked and curled on his side in the foetal position in the back corner of the room, gazing up in abject terror at the two silhouetted forms in the doorway. Elrond's heart stilled in his chest as he looked down at Legolas, who was covered in blood and trembling like a leaf. "Elrohir, a blanket." Elrohir left the closet and Elrond edged a little closer to the blonde elf on the floor, eventually coming to kneel by his side. He stretched out a hand and Legolas whimpered quietly and shrank back, afraid. "Peace, Legolas, It's alright, it's all over now. It's me, Elrond." Elrohir reappeared at his father's side with a blanket, and tucked it round Legolas' body, hoping it would at least make the prince feel less exposed.  
  
"Legolas? It's Elrohir, everything is going to be fine." Elrond gently began to stroke the blonde's blood-caked hair, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort, knowing he had to calm the elf before he could carry him from the room to be treated. When the young elf's shivers had decreased a little, he wrapped the blanket more securely round the prince and slid his hands carefully beneath him. As gently as he could, the lore master lifted Legolas into his arms, wincing as his patient moaned in pain. Elrohir held open the door to let them pass, and together they started on their way to the Healing House. They were forced to re-evaluate their plans however, when they were greeted at the door by a gaggle of curious elves, having left the feast to see what all the commotion was about. Legolas tensed in Elrond's arms and the lord cursed under his breath, moving swiftly through the babbling elves and going in the opposite direction from the healers.  
  
Round the first corner, Elrohir lifted a tapestry that concealed a secret door, and pushed it open. Elrond stepped into the hidden passage it revealed, his haste increasing now as he felt the prince's hot tears wetting the front of his robes. Imladris was full of secret passages like this one, leading for the most part to his own quarters. They had been designed to provide a means of escape for the valley's lord and his family in case of attack, but they would serve well now as a way to transport the prince to safety without exposing him to the stares of nosy townspeople. The quiet, passive behaviour of the elf in his arms made Elrond worry even further- what had Glorfindel done to reduce the prince to this state? The lore master had his suspicions, but until he could examine Legolas, he wouldn't know.  
  
The three travelled in silence save for Legolas' ragged breathing, and Elrond was relieved when they finally reached the sanctuary of his own quarters. Legolas was clearly badly hurt, and Elrond wanted to examine him as soon as possible. Once again Elrohir rushed ahead to open the secret door that led directly to the half-elf's bedroom and Elrond quickened his pace, anxious to tend to his injured charge. As softly as possible he lowered Legolas onto the mattress and began peeling back the blanket he was wrapped in. The prince abruptly seized the end of the fabric away from the half-elf and wrapped it even tighter about himself, fear and anguish showing in every gesture. "No!" Legolas began to hyperventilate, seized with panic. He couldn't let Elrond examine him! Then he would know he had been raped, and he couldn't live with the shame. They already thought him weak for letting Glorfindel abuse him, they would be disgusted if they knew.  
  
He curled up again, shrinking back from Elrond. The movement pulled at his wounds and he winced at the pain, something that was not lost on Elrond. The lore master had his suspicions about the nature of Legolas' hurts, and the prince's unwillingness to be examined only strengthened them. He appreciated Legolas' feelings, but he could not let the blonde go untreated; all he could do was make the experience as easy and painless as possible for the youth. "Elrohir, please leave us alone a while. Go tell the healers that I will treat Legolas here, and wait outside when you are finished."  
  
Elrohir looked outraged and was about to protest, prompting Elrond to sharpen his tone. "Now please, Elrohir." With a last, concerned glance at the prone blonde, the younger twin obeyed, leaving Elrond and Legolas quite alone. Careful not to further spook his patient, Elrond knelt down by the bed, eye to eye with the prince, extending his hand to stroke Legolas' hair. "Legolas, I understand how difficult this is for you, but I must examine you. Left untreated your wounds could become infected and would be a thousand times worse. I'm afraid I can offer no anaesthetic to let you sleep- with a concussion it might well drag you under." He saw Legolas' eye widen and quickly added, " I promise I will not judge you."  
  
Legolas' eyes met his cautiously and he nodded his permission, though Elrond still read hesitance and distrust in the blue depths. //Little wonder,// he thought to himself, //after what he's been through.// Doing his best to smile reassuringly, Elrond slowly pulled the blanket away from the blonde's body and attempted to lay him on his back. A pained little noise escaped the prince's lips and Elrond desisted, concerned. Leaning over he gasped as he saw what the darkness of the closet had masked. The skin of Legolas' back was torn and bloody, announcing clearly that he had been whipped, and dried blood and semen stained his inner thighs. Disgust for the Elda welled up inside him, but Elrond willed himself back to focusing on treating the prince. There was also bad bruising on Legolas' abdomen and face, a bad gash across his right nipple and chest, a nasty cut on his temple, and his wrists had been rubbed raw by the rope which bound him. The half-elf rose and crossed to the sideboard, rummaging for a moment, and returning to the bed with all the bandages, bottles and supplies that he would require.  
  
As Legolas was on his side, Elrond started with the injuries on his face, wrists and abdomen, rubbing arnica tenderly into the bruises. Next he carefully cleaned the cuts on chest and forehead, before helping the prince to lie on his front. He fetched the basin, jug and sponge from the dresser and poured some clean water out, wetting the sponge and using it to clean the dried blood away from Legolas' back. The body beneath him shook a little, but the young archer remained silent. Working as quickly as he could, Elrond cleaned the deep welts and rubbed antiseptic into them, hearing Legolas' hiss at the sting. Nudging Legolas to lift himself from the mattress a little, the half-elf wrapped clean bandages around his back, pinning them and lowering the prince to the sheets again.  
  
Finally, he turned his attention to the blonde's internal injury. Gingerly washing the blood and semen from Legolas' thighs, Elrond felt him stiffen with panic and began whispering in a low, soothing voice as he continued to bathe the wound. Once he had finished the external area, Elrond quietly asked for permission to continue. "Legolas, I will need to check inside of you, to make sure the wound is clean and decrease the chance of infection." Legolas simply nodded, avoiding the lord's eyes. His silence troubled Elrond, but he pressed on, eager to end the prince's ordeal as quickly as possible.  
  
Wetting his fingers, he placed them at Legolas' opening, his other hand moving to hold Legolas'. Slowly he slid one wet digit into the ravaged channel, adding a little more water with the sponge. Elrond felt Legolas squeeze his hand and he squeezed back in sympathy. He withdrew his finger and washed away the blood, then covered his fingers liberally in a salve that would speed the healing process and help prevent infection. He slid two fingers inside scissored, coating the abused flesh again, before gently withdrawing and washing his hands.  
  
Setting his healing kit aside on the dresser, Elrond returned to Legolas' side, sitting on the bed next to him. "Thank you for trusting me, pen-neth. Would you prefer to lie on your side?" Legolas nodded silently and let Elrond ease him onto his side. He didn't trust himself to speak, lest the sobs that threatened to erupt should further shame him. Elrond draped a light sheet over his body to preserve his modesty. "Try to get some rest. Would you like me to stay with you?" Legolas nodded gratefully, not ready to be left alone yet.  
  
One by one, the torches and candles that lit the room were extinguished, until only one small candle on the dresser remained alight, Elrond rightly guessing Legolas' wouldn't feel comfortable in total darkness. Legolas tried to close his mind to the memories threatening to overpower him, eager for sleep and peace. Eventually, his physical exhaustion overcame his fraught mind and his eyes grew vacant in elven sleep.  
  
Seeing at last that the prince slumbered in relative peace, Elrond leant over him, holding Vilya above the damaged body. Channelling his own strength into Legolas, the lord felt himself grow weak, the archer's punished body hungrily accepting any energy available. Breaking the connection. Elrond stood still a moment, catching his breath and clearing his head. The power of Vilya would help the prince to heal more quickly, but Legolas still had a long road ahead of him. Once the dizziness had passed, Elrond left silently, seeking his son.  
  
It was no surprise to find Elrohir waiting restlessly in the next room, pacing in front of the empty fireplace. He snapped back to attention when he heard his father enter, bursting with questions about the blonde. "He is resting now. I'm sorry I had to send you away, but the examination was hard enough for him without the added humiliation of an audience." Elrohir's ire faded as he realised the logic and compassion of his father's actions, swiftly replaced by guilt at his selfishness. "What did that beast do to him, Ada?" Elrond's sadness showed in his mist-grey eyes. "He raped him, pen-neth. Legolas will probably never be the same again, you never truly recover from something like this."  
  
Elrohir felt like he'd had the wind knocked out of him. So it was rape then; his darkest fears had come true. Seeing his son's lost expression, Elrond enfolded his youngest in his arms, his paternal instincts- already stimulated by the prince- getting the better of him. Elrohir welcomed the comforting touch, inking bonelessly against his father. "He will need your support more than ever, ion." Elrond pulled back, looking into Elrohir's face. "I think you should be there when he wakes." "I will watch over him through the night," he vowed. Feeling better now he had some purpose, Elrohir left his father's side to take his place at Legolas' bedside. He was about to open the door when Elrond stopped him. "Don't push him, Elrohir- he is fragile, mentally and physically." "I know. I'll take good care of him." With that he resumed his course to his love's side, determined to prove his words true.  
  
Legolas was indeed sleeping as his father had said, lying on his side, blonde hair - matted and red-tinged with blood - fanned out on the pillow. It would be a while until Legolas' wounds would be healed sufficiently to allow him to take a bath, but perhaps in the meantime there might be something to remove the vivid reminder of his ordeal. Cautiously, Elrohir lay down a few inches from the prince, so that they were facing each other. Conscious of the blonde's nudity, he lay on top of the sheet that covered Legolas, knowing the prince would be feeling particularly vulnerable at the moment. The coming months, perhaps even years, would require much patience, but Elrohir silently promised himself and the sleeping prince that he would be there to support him every step of the way.  
  
He lost track of the hours that passed, musing over his own thoughts and gazing into Legolas' vacant eyes. A movement from Legolas brought him out of his reverie however, forcing him to concentrate. Legolas' brow was knit, and he had started to twitch agitatedly. He murmured faintly and twisted in his sleep, clearly in the throes of nightmares.  
  
Elrohir began to stroke his face tenderly, whispering sweet nothings, hoping his voice would reassure the blonde. Legolas quietened a little and stilled, but still whimpered almost inaudibly. Drawing nearer so that their noses were almost touching, Elrohir ran his fingers through blonde locks. "Shh, Legolas, you are safe. I'm going to look after you." The sound of his voice seemed to be effective, for Legolas stopped fidgeting and buried his face in Elrohir's hair, clutching at the front of his robe. Elrohir continued to caress his love's hair and scalp, keeping the nightmares at bay. He would be strong for Legolas.  
  
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Chapter 12  
  
The first thing Legolas became aware of as he struggled towards wakefulness was something soft tickling his nose. He tried to pull away but stopped dead and moaned in pain as sharp daggers of pain danced up his back at the movement. Forcing his eyes open and shaking the cobwebs from his brain, Legolas began to panic as he realised there was a hand resting heavily on his hip, and the tickling sensation came from a mass of dark hair. His chest began to tighten as memories were awoken.  
  
Elrohir woke at the sound of Legolas' laboured breathing and cursed his own stupidity. Why had he thought Legolas would want anyone this close? Bringing his hand to rest on Legolas' head, Elrohir forced their eyes of meet- Legolas' wild-eyed, frightened stare with his own calm, steady gaze. "Legolas, peace, it is Elrohir." Fingers threaded into bloodstained strands. "Be still meldir, all is well."  
  
Legolas' breathing remained ragged and heavy but he ceased his struggles and kept his eyes locked with Elrohir's. Now he realised who was holding him, his shock and terror began to fade; Elrohir would not hurt him, Elrohir had been kind to him. He hadn't scorned him, and he had come to rescue him last night, he remembered him bringing a blanket, a gesture Legolas had greatly appreciated. He shuddered as his thoughts returned to that night; awaking alone and aching in the darkness of the closet; Glorfindel beating him, whipping him, tearing him. The fiery pain centring on his most intimate place provided an inescapable reminder of what Glorfindel had done to him. Gods, he could even smell the Elda's sweat and the musky smell of sex still clinging to his body. He grew agitated again as the thought seemed to grow, becoming a monster in his mind, drowning him in the scent of Glorfindel, making his skin crawl as he felt phantom hands on him again. He wanted to scrape all trace of the blonde from his bruised skin. He had never felt so utterly soiled.  
  
Elrohir noticed his increasing distress and began to speak softly, keeping their eyes locked, giving Legolas no choice but to focus on the present and not on his memories. "Father will come to see you again soon, do not fret, it cannot be long before you will be able to bathe again. And when you are better, we can visit Greenwood, you and I. Won't it be good to see your family again?" Legolas nodded timidly, spurring Elrohir on to continue, wracking brains for inane banter. He knew he was rambling, but the tactic seemed fairly effective- the blonde was not becoming restless and agitated, as he had done before, though he still wore a lost expression on his face. Feeling buoyed, Elrohir kept up the chatter about everything from the success of the New Year revel to Erestor's newest pet project, the construction of a new longer archery range, similar in design to those found in Lorien and the prince's native Greenwood. He was mortified then, when abruptly, while he was discussing Elladan's proposal for a combined hunting expedition in the autumn, Legolas burst into anguished, noisy tears, hot salty water pouring down his cheeks and lip trembling. Horrified, Elrohir stroked the side of Legolas' face, but swiftly desisted when Legolas flinched at the touch. Feeling helpless, all Elrohir could do was wait for the sobs to subside, sitting impotently by as Legolas curled up tighter beneath the sheet.  
  
Legolas hissed as he curled himself up, but otherwise ignored the pain the motion caused. He knew he shouldn't be crying like this- Elrohir was no doubt shaking his head above him in disgust. Warriors weren't supposed to cry, it was unbecoming to be seen so unmanned. But something inside him had been broken, a dam had been burst, and he was helpless to hold back the flow. He wanted to explain, to tell Elrohir how dirty he felt; how he could feel Glorfindel's breath on his neck, his hands grasping his body; how something had been stolen from him and now he was lost.  
  
But he remained silent; these weren't feelings he could into words. After a time, he slumped exhausted into the pillows, tears finally spent. Elrohir's heart wrenched- Legolas was shattered. Glorfindel was going to suffer for this, Elrohir would see to it personally. Seeing Legolas calming, all agitation leaving his fragile form, Elrohir made one final plea. "Don't let him get away with this. Will you speak out against him?"  
  
Anger welled up in Legolas as his injuries burned in agony even at the faint pressure of the light sheet draped over him and he nodded. Where once the thought of Glorfindel had made his heart sing with love, there was now a deep pain and hatred growing inside. This time he had pushed too far- this time Glorfindel would pay for his betrayal.  
  
* * * Elrond stood quietly before a single stone arch in the wall, leading into the lower reaches of Imladris. For such an unhappy morning, the air was warm and pleasant, the sun shone, and the birds sang indecorously in the trees. The peaceful scene was quite inconsonant with his grave purpose; surely nature should reflect something of the chaos and woe that had come to a head only the night before? But no, the day was beautiful despite the ugliness of spirit he was about to confront.  
  
The archway led him further downwards, into the caves that had originally made the valley such an attractive location for the half-elf to build his sanctuary. It was a path he knew well; although now the dungeon was barely used, lying empty for two centuries, there had been darker days in Imladris' history, times of war and danger when the prison had served good purpose. Ironic, though, that the most dangerous of all these should come from within the valley sanctuary- for he who can present a false face of charm and honesty is often the most deadly, as he cannot easily be marked, the lore master reflected. 'Twas sad too, to see how a once great elf and treasured friend had fallen to such depravity.  
  
The guards stood to attention as they saw Elrond enter. The most senior among them, a neri about half Elrond's age, stood forward to offer a bow and an update on their prisoner. "My lord, we have placed Lord Glorfindel under strict guard; four armed soldiers are present at the cell at all times." "Has he spoken?" "He has awoken but remains silent, Lord." Elrond nodded his thanks and swept past the commander in search of his fallen seneschal, deeper in the gloom of the cave.  
  
It did not take very long. In front the first row of cells he approached, four well-built, vigilant guards stood watch, raising their weapons at his footsteps before lowering them upon further identification. Glorfindel lay on his back on a sparse wooden bed behind an iron grill, hands folded behind his head and staring into space. Blood still stained his fingernails and spattered his tunic, but he seemed unconcerned, not even turning to acknowledge his lord as Elrond stepped up to the grill, Guards moving aside respectfully.  
  
"I have come to inform you that your sentence hearing will take place in two weeks time to the day, once a deputation from Greenwood has arrived and all charges have been decided on. I think we can forgo the usual complaint and presentation of evidence to the Lord of Imladris, as I have already seen with my own eyes all the evidence I need to lock you up for eternity." Glorfindel remained silent and still as a stone, looking up at the ceiling, casual and indifferent. Elrond's anger surged. "Don't you have anything to say for yourself? Don't you feel even a shred of remorse over what you did?"  
  
Glorfindel at last deigned to cast a disinterested look in Elrond's direction. "What business is it of yours what I do with my own property?" Elrond's lips twisted in disgust. "You do not own Legolas, he stays with you of his own free will. He is not your slave!" Glorfindel smirked, the smug expression forcing Elrond to work extremely hard not to grab the nearest weapon and slit the Elda's throat. "I think you will find, my lord, that is exactly what he is. The slut had it coming to him; he deserved to be punished." "Nothing Legolas could do would ever justify your treatment of him. You betrayed and abused someone who loved you, and I vow to see you brought to justice."  
  
Glorfindel returned to staring blankly at the ceiling, gloating smile still playing on his lips. "You will do nothing Elrond, because Legolas will not let you. I have him in the palm of my hand- he will never say anything that might incriminate me. Whether you want to or not, you cannot lift a finger against me unless he asks you to." He laughed, a bark sounding from his throat. "He will say nothing, and if you pursue the issue, I will raise such a fuss over your false prosecution and harassment that you will wish you had never met the little prince. You wouldn't want Celeborn to get wind of your attempts at miscarriage of justice." Elrond's lips thinned. "You are despicable." The only answer Glorfindel gave was to laugh, a cold, almost manic sound. The seneschal's laughter followed Elrond as he turned angrily on his heel and stalked out of the dungeon, the sound echoing in the high stone walls, amplifying the volume. Elrond bristled as it rang in his ears; Legolas would have to testify.  
  
* * * Elrohir lovingly watched Legolas sleep, chest rising and falling gently with his breathing. Nightmares had tormented the prince for the last hour, but it seemed that he had now entered a deeper, dreamless period of sleep. Elrohir was relieved- he hated to watch his love in such clear distress, but feared that waking him might frighten the blonde even further.  
  
The slight click of the door in the next room alerted the younger peredhel to his father's coming, and he waited patiently from his place on the bed. As he had predicted, a gentle knocking came, followed by his father's dark head appearing round the door. "Ada." Elrohir smiled, grateful for the comfort his father's ever-calm presence offered. Elrond placed a chaste kiss upon the crown of his youngest's head. "How has he slept?" "Not well, he's only begun to sleep peacefully- nightmares plague him." Elrond looked grave but not surprised. "It is as I thought it would be. What are his intentions towards Glorfindel now?" Elrohir met his father's eyes with some satisfaction. "He will speak against Glorfindel." Elrond nearly laughed with relief. "Then I will see to it that he is brought to justice, for Legolas' sake. Though, I fear it may well be me who will be protecting Glorfindel soon, when the Greenwood party are informed of the charges against him."  
  
Elrohir looked at him suspiciously. "Greenwood? Thranduil is sending an envoy?" Elrond shook his head. "Nay, son; Thranduil is coming himself. I managed to catch the young Silinde last night for a few words, and he reluctantly revealed to me that King Thranduil and his escort set out for Imladris a fortnight ago- they will arrive within days." Elrohir's eyebrows rose. "Thranduil will be coming here?" Such important persons rarely left the security of their realms. "Aye; it seems he has been greatly concerned for Legolas for some time, but my letter regarding his injuries was the final straw. He has grown tired of his son's silence."  
  
Elrohir sat pensively, considering the implications of this new revelation. He had known from Elladan's words that a Greenwood deputation would be coming to the valley- however he had not expected one quite so soon. Would Legolas be ready to face his family so soon after his ordeal? As if reading his mind, Elrond enmeshed his fingers with his son's and gave his palm a squeeze. "He will need his family to support him through this. Thranduil loves him, he will not turn him away." "You are right. It will be good for him to see his father again."  
  
Elrond rose and stretched, thoroughly drained of energy, and offered his hand to the still-seated Elrohir. "Will you come to get some rest and nourishment?" Elrohir looked down at the sleeping blonde and shook his head gently. "No, I don't want him to be alone when he wakes." Elrond sighed- he had suspected Elrohir's reply to be something along those lines. "Very well, but I'm sending Elladan here with a tray, and I want you to eat well. If you can manage, try to encourage Legolas to drink plenty of fluids and try some food, I'll send up some broth for him." Elrohir smiled happily. "Thank you ada." * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 13  
  
Elladan sat by the window, listening to the rhythmic patter of raindrops against the glass. He let his temple rest against the windowpane, distractedly drawing patters in the patch of steam created by his breath. His other hand stroked reassuringly through a mass of dark brown locks, identical to his own, as he cradled his younger brother to his body protectively. He let his sleeping twin cuddle close and pillow his head on his shoulder, the way they had done when they were children, more than a century ago.  
  
The past few days had taken a heavy toll on Elrohir, and Elladan was determined to give him some respite from his woes, however brief. Four days since Glorfindel's arrest, matters were going from bad to worse. Though Legolas had begun to heal physically- though progress was frighteningly slow for an elf, the bleeding from his torn passage had ceased, and scabs were beginning to form over the welts on his back- however the emotional strain had simply overwhelmed the blonde: on the second day after the attack, Legolas suffered a nervous breakdown.  
  
The entire time had passed in a blur for Elladan, it was really only now that he could begin to make sense of the last few days. Elrond had come in to check on Legolas that fateful morning, (after prying Elrohir away from Legolas' side the night before), to find his bed empty. After a desperate search- and the quick dispatch of a vassal to check that Glorfindel was still safely locked up in the cells- the prince was found cowering in a corner behind heavy velvet curtains, trembling badly and shrinking back from Elrond's touch.  
  
Once Elrond had managed to get close enough to examine him, the lore master had diagnosed a mental breakdown and attempted to put the blonde back to bed. He had resisted strongly, so Elrond settled for wrapping a blanket around him and gently coaxing him into drinking a mild sedative. When Legolas was no longer so agitated, the half-elf had carried him to the bed, dressed him in a warm sleeping robe, and tucked him in.  
  
Since then Legolas had been placed on a strict course of hypericum perforatum, but a marked change had come over the blonde since that day. He had spent the last three days huddled beneath a blanket, sitting alone in the dark, unresponsive and withdrawn. His haunted eyes showed that the prince was trapped in his own private nightmare, unreachable with kind words or gestures. Instead of shying away from touch, he seemed to be almost unaware of it, staring blankly into space. Legolas passively allowed Elrond's examinations and treatments but made no acknowledgement of the lore master, nor had he uttered a word in the three days.  
  
Elrond had by now moved into an empty guest room, leaving his own chambers to his young patient. He feared further upheaval would only cause Legolas to withdraw further into his own world, and his quarters- in a secluded part of the house - offered more privacy for his recovery than the aseptic rooms in the Healing House. Inevitably, Elrohir had been worried sick about the object of his desire, but Elrond had refused any save himself access to the prince, insisting he needed peace and quiet to recover. The party from Greenwood were yet to arrive, much to the peredhil's chagrin. Elrohir had clung to the hope that his family's presence might be enough to rouse the prince from his deep depression, and their failure to appear thus far had begun to concern and frighten the younger twin.  
  
As if he knew Elladan was thinking of him, Elrohir stirred within his brother's arms, nuzzling the elder twin's neck in his sleep. Elladan tightened his hold protectively, resting his chin on his younger brother's head, they way they had sat together when they were elflings frightened by a storm. The day seemed to crawl by, minutes stretching out into hours, until at last the golden afternoon grew ripe and heavy, Arien at her zenith. Elladan himself began to doze, lulled into a light slumber by the balmy air and the warm body snuggled against him. He sunk back in the window seat, leaning his weight on the window and wooden shutters, the tension that had built up from the trials of the last four days leaving his body as blissful sleep descended.  
  
A faint neighing sounded from the distance, but in his torpor Elladan heard nothing. As his mind stood poised on the cusp of deep sleep, a clattering of hooves upon stone cobbles caused him to jerk awake, his brusque movement in turn waking Elrohir. Over his twin's disgruntled mumbling, Elladan could hear the sound of at least a dozen horses riding into the courtyard beneath them. The racket ceased as the riders came to a halt and a loud, commanding voice gave the order to dismount. Elladan's heart gave a leap. Could it be them? Using his sleeve to wipe the fog from the glass, Elladan peered down into the yard below. Assembled were fifteen elves and their mounts, all arrayed in the distinctive forest greens and browns of Greenwood. Standing at the head of the group, handing his steed to a waiting stable hand was Thranduil. Emanating majesty and authority even in his travel soiled leathers; Thranduil was unmistakable amongst the other elves. "Elrohir, they're here, look!"  
  
Elrohir, who by now had managed to shake off a little of his lassitude, turned in his seat to press his nose up against the pane. The sight of the Greenwood party was enough to disperse the last lingering lethargy from his brain. "King Thranduil." In an instant, the younger twin was up and pulling Elladan to his feet. "Come on, let us greet them."  
  
* * * Elrond stepped out from behind the stone archway, braving the rain as he approached King Thranduil and his retinue. "Mae govannen, Thranduil." The king clasped his shoulder in greeting. "Mae govannen, Elrond." "I only wish our long-overdue reunion was taking place under happier circumstances." Thranduil frowned, concern written in the lines of his face. "Where is he? What has happened to him? I want to see my son, Elrond." Elrond held up a pacifying hand. "And I will take you to him, meldir, however first we need to talk." He signalled to a manservant to take the king's baggage. "Perhaps you might wish to change out of your wet clothing too. Lindir, my seneschal, shall show your men to the quarters arranged for them, if you would please follow me." Thranduil stopped him. "One moment- I wish for my sons, Vanamar and Calenfen, to lodge close to me."  
  
Elrond blinked in surprise as Thranduil gestured to two handsome youths, as blonde as their father but otherwise living pictures of their mother, who bowed respectfully as his eyes alighted on them. The lore master was ashamed to say he had not recognised them at first and taken them for soldiers- the last time he had seen them was at Legolas' naming ceremony, when they had been but children. Now he considered it however, there was a certain richness to the fabrics they wore that denoted them as elves of some wealth and import and distinguished them from the guards surrounding them. "Of course; if you would all like to follow me I will arrange appropriate lodgings for both your sons." The two youths spoke their thanks and followed as the half-elf led them down a stone passage deeper into the Last Homely House.  
  
Elrond paused at the top of the stairs to ensure his guests did not get left behind- they were currently halfway up the stone steps, conversing in low voices. He was about to resume leading the three to the guestrooms, when a loud call halted him. "Ada!" Elladan called as Elrohir dragged him by the arm down the corridor, "ada they're here, the elves from Greenwood- oh." Elladan trailed off, as an amused Thranduil appeared behind his father's shoulder, followed by two elves that could only be older versions of Vanamar and Calenfen, the two brothers closest to Legolas in age.  
  
Elrond raised an eyebrow at Elrohir's sleep-tousled hair and creased robes, but chose not to comment on the twins' less than regal appearance. "Your Majesty, my sons, Elladan and Elrohir, though I am certain you are already well acquainted." Both twins smiled and bowed their heads in greeting; they were certainly on familiar terms with the King and his family, having fostered for several years with the royal family in Greenwood. Though, it had been a century since they last met. Elrond gave them both a pointed look. .  
  
"Wait in my study, I shall be through shortly." "Yes ada," they chorused, and with a hasty bow to the King, they disappeared in a crumpled mass of hair, fabric and limbs in the direction from whence they came. Elrond turned back to his waiting charges and bowed apologetically. "This way please."  
  
The conversation between the three visiting elves had ceased, and the next part of their journey together began in uncomfortable silence. The half-elf willed Thranduil or his sons to come up with some conversation as their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud on the stone floors. At last Thranduil broke the silence. "You say Lindir is now your seneschal- what happened to Glorfindel?" This was not quite what Elrond had in mind when he had prayed for conversation, and his reply was guarded. "He is no longer serving me in that capacity. It is one of many things we need to discuss, in private."  
  
The discomfort of the situation was rescued as they entered the guest corridor. Elrond gestured to the first large ebony door on the left. "Your highnesses, you will find a suite that I hope will meet your needs through here." Vanamar bowed in thanks. "We are grateful, my lord." The pair, followed by the vassal carrying their light luggage, disappeared into the room beyond, leaving Elrond and Thranduil alone save for a single vassal loaded with the King's luggage. They continued down the hall to Thranduil's rather grander room, one Elrond knew that the King had favoured in the past. "I admit I was surprised to here that you had left your kingdom." "I left my eldest, Firloss, in charge. He is old enough now, and it will do him good to learn before he takes the crown." Elrond nodded sympathetically; he had oft considered giving his own sons more responsibility in preparation for their eventual ascent to full lordship. "Here is your own chamber; shall I send a servant in half an hour to bring you to my study? I think we will be best to talk there." Thranduil shook his head. "I know the way. Until then." Elrond stood back and let Thranduil and the vassal enter the suite, the door clicking shut behind them. Though the King might be suspicious of him and his family, Elrond was heartily glad he was here.  
  
* * * Thranduil stalked alone down the halls of Imladris, determined to reach the half-elf's study and force news of his son out of Elrond as soon as physically possible. It frustrated him that Elrond had refused to tell him outright what was going on, but another part of him quailed at the thought of what might have happened that could make the lord unwilling to impart the information. He was a fool, he decided; when Legolas stopped responding to his letters one hundred years ago he should have sent someone to investigate immediately, not let the situation escalate to this. What if Legolas had died? Was that the reason Elrond wouldn't let him see his son? But surely he would have felt it if Legolas had died, wouldn't he? Dread consumed him, morbidly considering the terrible possibilities. And how dare Elrond keep him hanging in this suspense? Anxiety fuelling his anger, Thranduil stormed through the corridors, not even pausing to knock as he flung wide the study door. "Where is he, Elrond? Tell me!"  
  
Elrond and his sons looked up in alarm; a raging Thranduil was a dangerous thing to have around at the best of times, but with what they had to tell him. "Thranduil, please calm yourself, before you can see Legolas, we must explain some things." "Either you take me to him or I shall slay you where you stand!" Elrond sighed, worried at the king's volatile mood. "Please meldir, you cannot see him like this! He is so fragile already, you could well cause another nervous collapse if you go in there ranting and raving." Thranduil stopped dead, disbelief and horror mixing on his face. "Collapse...?" For a moment the King seemed younger, lost and afraid. Elrohir kindly patted a seat in front of Elrond's desk. "We had better talk."  
  
Thranduil nodded dumbly and lowered himself into the chair. Across from him Elrond paused to massage his temples, pondering how and where to start his tale. "When Legolas came to live in Imladris, more than a hundred years ago, he came because he was in love with my former seneschal, Glorfindel. They lived together since that day until five days ago." Thranduil frowned; what had happened five days ago? "As I was saying, they were living together throughout that time, the time when I believe Legolas ceased all contact with Greenwood. It was also during that period that my sons and I noticed your son becoming increasingly quiet and subdued."  
  
Elrond took a deep breath and chose the wording of his next sentence carefully. "Around three months ago now, my sons discovered something quite disturbing while training with Legolas. His back was severely bruised; so badly in fact, the injuries could certainly not have been caused accidentally. At the time they confronted him, but Legolas insisted all was fine. Although we could not do anything at the time, we resolved to watch him." He gave pause for breath. "After that, his shyness increased, until the incident I referred to in my letter occurred. I did not wish to alarm you at the time, and hoped that Legolas himself would fill in the details, so I gave only a brief mention of his being injured. In fact, I realise now that I should have told you the true extent of his wounds- he was hospitalised for six weeks following the occasion. It was while recuperating that my youngest, Elrohir, managed to coax Legolas into telling us what was happening- that Glorfindel was abusing him, and that the violence had been going secretly for some time."  
  
Thranduil sat, stunned, trying to take in this new revelation. "Glorfindel was. beating my son?" Elrond nodded. "I'm afraid what has happened since has been partly my fault; I should have forcibly removed Legolas from Glorfindel's reach when I first discovered what has happening, but I failed to do so. His blood is partially on my hands." Elrond leaned forward. "Thranduil, what I am about to tell you will be deeply distressing, but it is something you need to know. Five days ago, on New Year's Eve, Legolas suffered another attack by Glorfindel, worse than before." Thranduil visibly paled. "No." "He was beaten and raped, gwador. Elrohir and I found him and brought him to my chambers, but we came too late to prevent his ordeal. The following day he suffered a nervous breakdown, and I have been treating him since. However he has mental scars that will never fully heal."  
  
Numb with shock and dread, Thranduil tried to think straight. "I want to see him." "Of course, I will take you to him immediately." Elrond rose and walked round the desk to offer his hand to the King, who gratefully took it. Hauling himself out of the chair, Thranduil walked on unsteady feet to the door, Elrond leading him to his beloved son. With one last look back at his sons, Elrond nudged Thranduil out the door and into the corridor. "It is not far; I am treating him in my own chambers. It is quieter, and more comfortable for him." Thranduil nodded appreciatively. "Thank you." "Do not thank me meldir, I deserve it not."  
  
The pair stopped before the final doorway in the hall, at the very end of the corridor. Elrond paused as he reached for the handle. "Have a care, friend, he is still very frail. Do not be offended if he doesn't acknowledge your presence, and do not do anything to alarm or frighten him." "I will be careful." With that Elrond opened the door and led him through an elegant drawing room, empty save for themselves. "He is through there." The half-elf gestured at a locked door at the other side of the room. Seeing Thranduil's questioning expression, he nodded encouragingly and stood back; the other elf needed to do this alone. Thranduil gathered up his courage as he turned the key in the lock, dreading what he might find behind, praying that the happy child he once knew was not completely lost.  
  
Inside the room appeared to be empty. The curtains were drawn shut, and a rumpled bed lay unoccupied and quiltless against the far wall. Shutting the door behind him, Thranduil stepped cautiously into the room. Where was Legolas? He had expected to find him lying in bed, but the room seemed devoid of any life. He stood silent a moment- he could definitely hear breathing! Following the sound, he walked round the bed to the other side. Huddled in the corner, in the gap between the wall and bed, was his youngest son, wrapped tightly in the quilt. "Legolas..?" Wide, frightened eyes found his and softened, the sight enough to break Thranduil's heart. "Ada?" Legolas' lip began to tremble, precipitating the tears that welled up in his eyes. "ada." Thranduil swiftly settled beside his youngest and scooped the thin body into his arms, rubbing his back soothingly and smoothing the tangled blonde tresses of his son. The green elf rocked his son's frail form as Legolas sobbed loudly into his shoulder, outpouring the stress and pain of the last few days.  
  
Thranduil lost track of time as he cradled his son, rocking him gently as he waited for the sobs to subside. Finally, Legolas wore himself out with crying and slumped silently against his father's chest. Thranduil planted a chaste kiss on the crown of his son's head and carefully stroked the matted hair as Legolas buried his face in his own, neater locks. "Sorry." Legolas' words were muffled, spoken into his father's neck, but Thranduil could still make them out. He frowned, concerned, and stilled his hands. "For what, tithen-emlin?" "For being so weak. For making you ashamed of me." Thranduil's heart twisted painfully. Was that what Legolas truly thought? "I could never be ashamed of you, nîn-ion. You are my son, and I will support you through this. None of this is your fault." Legolas said nothing, but buried his face deeper into his father's hair. Thranduil's hands tightened protectively. "Why did you never say anything, nîn-elen? If we had known, we could have helped you." Legolas shook his head weakly, his voice hardly above a whisper. "I was too ashamed. I'm sorry ada." "Hush, now, you have nothing to be sorry for." He planted another kiss on Legolas' hair as he softened his voice. "Do you still love him?" Legolas' reply was a hoarse whisper, so low Thranduil could scarcely make out the words. "I did. But now." He took a sharp intake of breath. "It hurts, ada." "Hush, it is alright, your family here now." Legolas nodded faintly into his father's neck and surrendered to his mental and physical exhaustion. Thranduil tenderly lifted him and laid his slim body on the bed, smoothing the quilt over him. Kneeling by the bed, Thranduil made a quiet vow to his son; "You will be avenged, thithen-cugu."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 14  
  
Elrond halted suddenly before the stone archway, glancing back at his companion. "Are you certain you wish to do this?" Thranduil's eyes took on a steely glint. "I need to see him." Elrond led on reluctantly; he had hoped to keep Thranduil from seeing his son's rapist until the sentencing, fearing the King might lose his composure and throttle the Elda there and then. Thranduil had been so insistent however, the half-elf had eventually had to acquiesce to his ever more determined demands. Which was why they were now entering the dark dungeons, built in the deep caves of Imladris and seldom used in times of peace. Torches held in high brackets lighted the dark passages and candles flickered in small alcoves in the wall. The front guard bowed respectfully as they passed, heavyhearted footsteps taking them further into the gloom.  
  
The guards around his cell stood to attention as their Lord and the King stepped up to stand before the iron grill keeping the Elda incarcerated. As before, the blonde lord lay on the rudimentary bed, casually tossing some small trinket in the air, flashing brightly as it caught the light from the flaming torch. Glorfindel failed to acknowledge them, insolently avoiding looking towards them and continuing his game.  
  
"Open the door." Elrond looked up alarmed at Thranduil's face twisted with fury. "Meldir, I-" "Open the door." He looked at Elrond imploringly. "I'm not going to kill him Elrond. He has something I want." Thranduil's words confused him, but Elrond nodded guardedly to the blonde's jailors. The iron grill swung open and Thranduil swept inside. With one swift motion he crossed to Glorfindel, who was still ignoring the pair, and lunged at the bauble the blonde had tossed, scooping it up in midair.  
  
In an instant Glorfindel was on his feet. "That's mine." Thranduil's mouth contorted in disgust. "You have no right to touch his ring, just as you had no right to touch him." Amusement flashed in Glorfindel's eyes before he straightened his face. "But your Majesty, your whore of a son gave it to me, just as he gave me his body like a common little-" Glorfindel never finished his sentence, knocked sideways into the wall with all the brute force Thranduil could muster. Elrond and a guard moved in to restrain the greenelf as Glorfindel staggered to his feet, nursing a split lip and a red mark on his temple that would surely blossom into an impressive bruise. "Thranduil, control yourself!" the half-elf hissed as he dragged the King back outside and hurriedly motioned to the guards to lock the cell door. Shrugging the lore master off, Thranduil pressed his face as close to Glorfindel as he could through the iron bars. "You will pay for your betrayal. You will burn in hell for this!"  
  
Elrond dragged a livid Thranduil away from the cell, back into the cool dark of the dungeon corridor. "Do not give him the satisfaction!" Elrond barked; he knew this had been a bad idea. "You promised me you would control your temper." Thranduil slumped, suddenly exhausted and aged. "Forgive me friend, when I saw him, I could not." Elrond sighed at the devastation in the other elf's voice and dropped his castigating tone. "I know, meldir, I know." Shepherding the now obedient King towards the light that marked the beginning of the outside world, Elrond squeezed the other elf's shoulder reassuringly. "We will not allow him to go unpunished, I promise you that."  
  
* * * Elrohir tried hard to suppress the butterflies in his stomach as he hurried through his father's apartments. At long last, he was being permitted to visit Legolas! It was strictly on the conditions set down by his father- that speak quietly, was careful not to startle or overwhelm the blonde, and was heedful of Legolas' mental state, ensuring nothing he did made him feel uncomfortable. The fact that his father saw the need to lay down such commands explicitly rankled somewhat; after the way he had supported Legolas through the past weeks since the first time he had been hospitalised, he found it rather insulting that his father thought he would make the prince 'uncomfortable'. He would never do anything to hurt his beloved!  
  
He knocked quietly and poked his head round the door. Scanning the room, he found Legolas lying glassy-eyed on the bed, tossing restlessly in the tangle of sheets. Shutting the door silently behind him, he stole across to the bed and knelt down beside it on the flagstones. Legolas whimpered pitifully in his sleep and curled up on his side. "No, please, no." Elrohir was torn, fearing to wake the prince but unable to bear Legolas' anguished pleading. Finally, when Legolas began thrashing violently on the bed, Elrohir could take it no longer. Climbing onto the bed he reached out to take the blondes face in his hands, calling him desperately. "Legolas, awake, please!"  
  
Elrohir found himself looking into wide blue eyes filled with fear and confusion. "Elrohir?" Elrohir pulled back, heedful of his father's words- Legolas might still fear physical contact. To his surprise, the prince grasped the front of his tunic tightly and gazed up at him fearfully. "Please don't go, don't leave me!" Elrohir lowered himself to the mattress and stroked Legolas' face compassionately. "I am here, meldir, I will not leave you." Legolas nodded shakily, still clinging to Elrohir's robes like a lifeline. "Hold me."  
  
Elrohir couldn't deny the softly spoken request and happily enfolded his beloved in his arms. Legolas leaned forward, tucking his head beneath the half-elf's chin and letting him hold him tightly. Elrohir felt the prince's breathing slow to a gentle rhythm, the panic fading. "I want to go home." Legolas spoke so quietly only an elf could make out the words. Elrohir chastely kissed the blonde hair before him. "Sorry meldir, we thought perhaps you wouldn't want to return to your quarters. We can move you back as soon as-" "No, I want to go home, not those rooms." Elrohir quickly moved to calm his love, perturbed by the despair in Legolas' plea. "Greenwood? You want to go back to your family?" Elrohir felt rather that saw Legolas nod against his chest, and placed another kiss on the crown of the blonde's head. "Then that is where we shall go, dear one." "Don't leave me." "I won't, I swear Legolas. I will stay with you wherever you go for as long as you need me, you have my word."  
  
These words seemed to satisfy the Legolas, as he snuggled into Elrohir's neck and tightened his hold. Elrohir held the slim frame against him until they both fell into sleep, aware of the gravity of the vow he had taken. To fulfil it, he would have to leave behind family friends, and the land he loved and considered home, most likely for centuries to come. Somehow however, lying with his love pressed up against him, none of that seemed to matter.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 15  
  
The air was stiflingly hot; seemingly half of Imladris had attempted to cram into the main audience chamber to witness this grim event. Already several maidens and a young lad had had to be carried out after swooning from the suffocating heat, but more continued to pour in until even the standing room had been exhausted. Extra guards had been posted to prevent a crush and to hold back any overzealous members of the crowd, though Lord Elrond hoped they would not be necessary. The half-elf surveyed the crowd from his seat high on the dais that he commonly received petitions and audiences from, but that now held six great chairs instead of the usual one.  
  
However, today was an unusual day; to his left sat Erestor and his eldest son, Elladan, and to his right were Thranduil and his two sons- all looking equally solemn, though in the eyes of Greenwood's royal family a glint of terrible anger could be discerned. Seeing the people still flocking in, Elrond was suddenly more grateful than ever that Legolas wouldn't be here to witness this; the prying stares of the public would break him. As the last elf squeezed into the room, Elrond stood, preparing to call the public sentence hearing to order. "Bring him in." A hush spread through the room as two of the guards pulled open the double doors at the side of the hall to reveal Glorfindel, wrists in heavy manacles and flanked by two armed guards. He was dressed simply in a plain prison smock and leggings, but still held his head high and gazed contemptuously up at the noble elves occupying the high dais. "Glorfindel of Gondolin, you have been found guilty of the heinous crimes of rape and physical abuse, and have been brought before the people today that all might hear your sentence. Have you anything to say for yourself?" The fallen lord twisted his lips disdainfully and spat at the floor beneath the party. Elrond heard Thranduil's sharp intake of breath and saw the whitening of his clenched knuckles, as the King struggled to control his emotions. "Very well; the committee hereby sentences you to thirty lashes and banishment, with forfeiture of all titles and lands. From henceforth you are no longer a lord, nor will you be welcomed in any settlement of elves. Yours will be a cursed life of wandering, unless you choose to sail West to face the judgement of the Valar." Elrond nodded to the guards that held the Elda. "Let it be done."  
  
The soldiers pushed Glorfindel down to kneel, drawing his hair forward, off his shoulders, and holding his bound hands in front of him. Another stepped out from behind the dais carrying a leather whip, and came round to stand behind the kneeling Elda as another guard unbuttoned the back of the shirt. Elrond suppressed a shiver; such implements were abhorrent to the elves, not even to be used on horses or dogs. But Glorfindel had sentenced Legolas to a life of pain, if not death, and he knew that the party from Greenwood would settle for no less. He noted with some grim satisfaction that it was a guard from the prince's forest home who bore the whip; it seemed a sort of poetic justice that the violence Glorfindel had inflicted on Legolas should be reciprocated, and by one of the prince's countrymen.  
  
The first crack of the whip echoed loudly around the room, the only sound breaking the silence. As the blows continued, the elves of Imladris watched silently, not a sympathetic face among the crowd. Such a comedown, Elrond reflected, for an elf who had been one of the most respected and well liked in all Middle-earth. News of Legolas' ordeal must have spread fast. At last, and much to Elrond's relief, the beating was complete, and Glorfindel was pulled roughly to his feet and his smock refastened. "Take him to the edge of the kingdom and run him from our lands. If he is ever sighted again within these borders from this day forward, he is to be shot on site. All lands and possessions are forfeited to the victim. This hearing is adjourned."  
  
As Glorfindel was marched from the hall, the thunder of conversation erupted from the crowd, breaking the spell that seemed to have entrapped the six elves on the sentencing committee. Elladan seemed almost dazed, Erestor melancholy, Legolas' family grimly satisfied; but finally, for the first time since they entered the hall, the tension eased enough to allow them to talk. Elrond stood over Thranduil, who still sat slouched in his chair, currently looking every one of his several thousand years. He opened his mouth to utter some platitude, but was beaten to it as Thranduil himself at last spoke. "I'm glad he wasn't here to see that. It was better that he stay in your chambers with Elrohir"  
  
Elrond exhaled deeply, releasing the tension from his body. "He would not have coped with seeing him again. I know you wanted him to witness his avenging, but it was for the best." Thranduil smiled sadly. "And you were right, meldir, as ever. Your Elrohir has looked after him well, I thank you for all you and your family's care." "I only wish I had acted sooner, he might have been spared. But Elrohir feels no burden in your son, he would gladly look after him all his life." Thranduil nodded thoughtfully. "He loves my Legolas, doesn't he?" Cornered, Elrond could not lie to the King. "Aye," he said softly, "he does. But he loves Legolas enough to know that he isn't ready for that yet." "I know. Legolas is in safe hands." Slowly, as if every bone in his body ached, Thranduil pushed himself out of his chair. "And I feel better knowing he will be coming to Greenwood with us. Legolas could use a friend right now." Elrond heartily concurred. "They will be good for each other, I feel." Thranduil looked at Elrond strangely. "And how do you feel about this, Elrond? Are you going to cope with the loss of a child?" Elrond sighed, torn. "I admit I never expected this, but he is old enough now to make his own decisions. I will simply have to learn to live with it; and certainly this will not be the last time we ever meet- I do expect to visit from time to time." "I will keep a fatherly eye on him, I promise you that." Elrond gave him a genuine smile. "I would expect no less of you meldir."  
  
* * * Elrohir smiled from behind his book as he watched Legolas lie back in the sun, beatific smile on his face. The young peredhel was reading aloud to the prince, a task that had become significantly easier over the last few days, since Legolas had finally allowed them to open the curtains to allow light into the room. He read from 'The Lost Tales of Doriath', Legolas' childhood favourite and a book that never ceased to delight the young blonde. For the first time in two weeks, Legolas looked even vaguely happy, and Elrohir was thrilled. Legolas looked peaceful when he had appeared only tormented for days, giving the half-elf hope for the future. As Elrond had said, even allowing the sun to shine into his room was a step in the right direction.  
  
Turning the last page of the book, Elrohir's thoughts sobered. Though in small ways Legolas might be improving, there was still a long way to go before the prince could even return to a state even approaching normal. Every night, nightmares still assailed him, causing him to wake up in a cold sweat, crying loud enough to wake the dead. He couldn't bear to go out in public, and flinched at sudden movements or loud noises. Glorfindel's ghost haunted him at every turn- even his ring that Thranduil had returned to him pained him too much to be worn. Banished or not, Glorfindel had certainly come out of this awful business better than the wounded, broken youth before him.  
  
After the final page there came a companionable silence, Elrohir coming to sit by Legolas on the bed. Legolas laid his golden head in Elrohir's lap, seeking the comfort of a loving touch, and the feeling of safety born of a friend's closeness. Elrohir was happy to oblige, stroking his fingers through the pale strands, now falling just above the prince's shoulders. The blood in his hair had become so matted the only solution had been to cut it out entirely, bidding farewell to his familiar, mid-back length mane. The new cut suited him, Elrohir thought, although oddly the sight of his shorn locks had greatly distressed Legolas at the time. He supposed it was another confusing change in a time when Legolas had little to anchor him, and had endeavoured to compliment and touch the blonde's hair as often as he was able, hoping that his self-esteem might begin to recover from the hammering Glorfindel had submitted it to. Sitting there, with Legolas' head gently resting in his lap, sun shining in through the window, Elrohir wished that time and space could stand still, keeping his beloved with him in this perfect moment for eternity. 


	6. Chapters 16 to 17

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)  
  
Author: Quellecristiel  
  
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 16  
  
"Do you want to take this, tithen gwanur?" Calenfen held aloft an ornate glass oil lamp, a beautiful example of Elven craftsmanship. Legolas shook his head silently. Calenfen placed the object back on the table and began sifting through the books on the shelves. Vanamar bustled through from the bedchamber, boasting an armful of robes and tunics. "Would you like me to pack these?" Legolas shook his head again. Calenfen ceased his rummaging. "Come, Legolas, you must take some things with you. You can't ride back to Greenwood naked." Vanamar shot Calenfen a dirty look, and Legolas shrugged emotionlessly.. "Only the ones from Greenwood." Vanamar gave him a kind smile. "Whatever you wish, brother. We can buy you new things in Greenwood, you needn't take anything you don't want."  
  
To be truthful there was little he wished to take back to Greenwood with him; all the possessions he acquired during his time with Glorfindel only served to remind him of the blonde lord. That lamp had been a begetting day gift from the early years of their relationship, those robes he had bought because Glorfindel liked the colours. These were memories he didn't want chasing him to Greenwood. Legolas sat on the green chaise-longue, wrapped in a warm blanket and leaning his head on the cushioned arm. Both Elrohir and his brothers had fussed at length about his coming back here, fearing his delicate physical state and mental exhaustion, but in all practicality he was the only one who could sort what was to stay and what he would bring home. He appreciated his brother's efforts- they had stayed here in his old quarters to pack his things for the journey back, knowing it would be painful and difficult for Legolas to go through all his belongings alone, but in truth he would prefer to ride to the forest with nothing but a change of clothes. Even nodding at the various objects left him feeling drained, and the sight of seemingly innocuous objects sent waves of unease through him- when Calenfen innocently held up a belt for his approval, Legolas had shivered uncontrollably for over five minutes.  
  
"Are you sure this is all you want to take?" Calenfen asked, concerned at the two meagre bags of personal effects, all his younger brother wanted to take away from a century in the valley sanctuary. Legolas nodded, still unwilling to speak unless absolutely necessary. Elrond had warned them their little brother would likely be unresponsive much of the time, but it still hurt them that he felt he couldn't talk to them. Vanamar frowned as he surveyed the small saddlebags, his thought clearly matching Calenfen's. "This is not very much, gwanur." Seeing Legolas' determined face, he capitulated, trailing off. "Very well, what would you like us to do with everything else?" Legolas' eyes clouded with sadness. "Burn it all."  
  
For a moment, both his brothers stood in stunned silence at this extraordinary request. Vanamar was the first to recover. "Burn it? Everything?" At his youngest brother's tacit confirmation, Vanamar sighed. "As you wish, Legolas. It shall be done." Legolas breathed a sound that might have been 'thank you', then curled up, weary, on the chaise-longue. Calenfen watched broken hearted, seeing his brother, once a fearless warrior, so small and dejected. He slid his hands beneath Legolas and gathered his brother's body against his chest, lifting him from the couch. "Come, pen-neth, you need to rest." A nod from Vanamar told him the elder brother would stay behind to make arrangements for the remainder of Legolas' belongings. Calenfen carried Legolas protectively from the room, letting his younger brother rest his head on his shoulder and fall into an exhausted sleep.  
  
In Elrond's chambers, a fretful Elrohir was waiting for them. The half- elf's unquiet betrayed his conviction that forcing Legolas to go back to the scene of his violation would have adverse consequences for the blonde, and seeing the fatigued prince in his brother's arms only seemed to heighten this opinion, if the accusing look he flashed Calenfen was anything to go by. Ignoring the unfriendly glance, Calenfen let Elrohir relieve him of his precious burden. Over the last week he had come to understand the half-elf's apparent adoration of his brother, and while at first he had been suspicious of his motives, Elrohir's actions had proved his misgivings false. Rather that taking offence at Elrohir's over protectiveness, Calenfen had come to find it reassuring; Legolas had someone who truly cared for him, even if the blonde didn't realise it yet. It would be good to have Elrohir in Greenwood with them: during the foster year the twins had spent with them as children both he and his brothers had come to like and respect the peredhil, and Legolas would eventually need more love and support than a brother could provide.  
  
* * * "Are you certain about this, Elrohir?" The youngest son of Elrond lifted his head, determination showing in his stance. "Yes father. I will always love you and Elladan, but Legolas needs me more." Elrond gave him a bittersweet smile. "I know, and I am proud of you, nîn-ion. You are always welcome in Imladris at any time; this will always be your home." "Thank you ada." Elrond pulled his son into a tight embrace, fighting tears. "You will visit, won't you?" "Of course!" Elrohir looked up with tear-filled eyes. "And I will write often." Elrond patted his back. "Then you have my every blessing, pen-neth. Follow your heart to Greenwood." Elrohir nearly laughed in his relief. "I will, ada."  
  
* * * "You are taking that?" Elrohir almost groaned aloud, but caught himself in time. "Yes, Elladan, I am taking that." He quickly stuffed the object of his brother's scorn, a small wooden toy horse, to the bottom of his pack. Elladan snorted derisively. "Are you planning on joining the elflings of Greenwood in their games? Shall I pack a skipping rope?" Elrohir fought with every ounce of his self- control to prevent himself turning round and slapping his twin. "Elladan, I am going to live there! I want to take a few sentimental items, and this reminds me of my childhood. Why must you be so snide and difficult, this is hard enough already!" His mirror image turned away, sullen, and took a seat on the windowsill. "I don't want you to go, Eli."  
  
Elrohir's countenance softened his brother's use of his childhood name. He came to sit next to him on the window seat, wrapping an arm around his waist despite Elladan's refusal to look in his direction. "I know, gwanur, but I have to be with him. I love him, Elladan." "I thought you loved me too." Elrohir sighed, guilt ridden yet self-assured at the same time. "You know I do, and I always will; you are my brother, my other half. But Legolas needs me, and I am in love with him! I never meant to hurt you Elladan, but I have to do this. I am sorry." Elladan laid his head on his twin's shoulder, eyes downcast. "Sorry I've been so awkward today, Eli. I just don't want to lose you." "It won't be forever, Ell. I shall visit you as often as I can manage, and you know you are always welcome in Greenwood." Elladan managed to smile bravely. "You're right brother. We will manage this."  
  
* * * Erestor surveyed the bustling scene before him; all about the courtyard, the elves of Greenwood were making last minute preparations for their departure. Panniers were fastened and secured, lembas and water stowed away, and the last of their riding gear put on. It all seemed so final now; up until today it almost felt as if Elrohir and Legolas would never really leave. "Are you sure Legolas is fit to ride, Elrond?"  
  
Elrond heaved a sigh and considered his oldest friend's question. "No, meldir, I am not. If it were up to me, I would have him rest here for at least another fortnight. But Thranduil is right- he pines for home and if I were not to release him to his family's keeping now, he would fade faster than he already is. Legolas no longer feels safe in Imladris." Erestor nodded to himself; Elrond's words made sense. "I am sure Elrohir will take care of him on the journey back." "I have no doubt of it."  
  
Suddenly the flurry of activity in the courtyard ceased as the Greenwood escort stood to attention. The two older Imladris elves turned in time to see Thranduil sweep into the square, bright emerald cloak setting him apart from his fellow countrymen. Behind him followed Calenfen and Vanamar, flanking a shuffling Elrohir and Legolas. Legolas was tightly cocooned in a cloak although the day was warm, and appeared only to be walking with the support of Elrohir. The sunlight showed him to be pale and wan, and dark circles still bloomed beneath bloodshot eyes. The guardians of the Greenwood remained silent, respectfully averting their eyes, but their sorrow was palpable to the intuitive Lord of the Valley. One of the troop led a grey mare Elrond recognised as Elrohir's own mount, bringing her up in front of the half-elf and the prince. Elrohir helped Legolas onto the mare's back, and let the blonde settle in a comfortable position before running over to embrace his father. "I love you ada." "I love you too, pen-neth." He squeezed the body in his arms. "Where is your brother, Elrohir?" His son looked up placidly. "We have said our goodbyes. It is too painful for him to watch me leave." Elrond nodded; they had always been so close, this would be hardest on Elladan. Elrond reluctantly released his son. "Farewell, Erestor." Tears threatening to escape his eyes, Elrohir turned away and swung himself up onto his mare, seating himself behind Legolas. After exchanging a few private words with Elrond, Thranduil gave the signal to mount and the remainder of their party were quickly ready to depart.  
  
Erestor caught Elrohir whisper something in Legolas' ear, and watched as Legolas leant back against the younger twin's chest and surrendered the reins to his control. Legolas still looked haunted and extremely fragile, and a pang of anxiety suddenly struck the advisor. What if Elrohir's love wasn't enough to reclaim the prince? Would Legolas fade like Celebrían? Pushing aside such distressing thoughts, Erestor tried to concentrate on the moment- this might be the last time he saw both youngsters for some time.  
  
With one last nod to Elrond, Thranduil gave the word and the party stirred their horses into action, cantering across the cobblestones onto the paths beyond. Elrond watched the departing figure of his son fade into a speck in the distance, swallowing down his pain at their parting.  
  
"You will meet again, meldir." Erestor's words barely penetrated Elrond's silent anguish, and it was a few moments before he could form a response. "I hope you are right, Erestor." The dark-haired counsellor frowned, puzzled. "You do not expect him to visit the valley? He seems as reluctant to leave as you are to see him go." "I do not doubt his devotion to either Imladris or his family, but I have the strangest of feelings." The elf lord tailed off, gazing at the spot his son had stood minutes before. "My intuition tells me we will be parted for far longer than we intended. Centuries even."  
  
Alarmed, Erestor attempted to deny such gloomy predictions. "Come, Elrond, surely you are simply feeling the strain of his departure. It is understandable, that you should be distressed at your youngest flying the nest. You should rest, you are bound to feel better if you take some time to refresh yourself." Elrond nodded vaguely. "Perhaps."  
  
The lore master let himself be walked back to his chambers, letting his advisor's babble wash over him as they travelled. Regardless of what Erestor said, his farseeing abilities had never led him astray in the past. He would not see Elrohir for a *very* long time.  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Chapter 17  
  
Legolas grimaced at the burning pain in his backside. It had been almost 6 weeks, surely by now. The jolting movement of the horse beneath him had reopened his wound and was causing him untold agony as they kept up a relentless pace to Greenwood. Legolas was beginning to regret leaving Imladris so soon; perhaps living a little longer with the ghosts of Glorfindel would have been preferable to the fatigue that pressed down on him like a smothering blanket. He was so exhausted he could barely concentrate on the simplest of tasks for any longer than a few seconds. For the last three weeks he had had to rely solely on Elrohir to feed, bathe and dress him, to lay him down at night and lift him on and off their mount.  
  
Besides, the ghosts of his former lover seemed to be chasing him back to Greenwood regardless. Legolas' cheeks flushed deep red as he thought of the humiliation he had suffered throughout the journey. Every night now he awoke screaming, having to be comforted in the darkness by his ever-present Elrohir. The nightmares he sought to flee were increasing in frequency and severity, and he could not hold back his whimpers of fear as he relived his violation nightly, cringing in the knowledge his weakness was clearly on display to all his father's guards, elves he had once trained and served with, who had once respected him.  
  
To further add to his shame, his internal wound had reopened with the intolerable pressure of riding for several hours every day, and now bled profusely. Thranduil had ensured Legolas was given plenty rest breaks, but it was not enough to prevent the bleeding. To Legolas' utter mortification, the red liquid had soaked through his leggings on three occasions, exposing his shameful secret to both his brothers and the entire escort. None had commented, but he was certain they were laughing at his sorry state, condemning his feeble state. He had heard that the souls of elves who were raped fled to Mandos' Halls, but no such relief had been afforded him. The blonde choked back an anguished sob; why would the Valar not end his torment? Why would they not let him die?  
  
Elrohir had been quick to spot his trouble, and had taken him to a secluded copse to treat the injury in as much privacy as could be afforded him, but Legolas still felt disgraced by the incidents. However hard his family and Elrohir attempted to reassure him, the prince's self-disgust threatened to consume him.  
  
Every time Vanamar or Calenfen attempted to make conversation while they made camp, they were met with cold silence from their younger brother. Legolas hated seeing their hurt expressions, but he couldn't bring himself to utter a word. His internal pain was not something the blonde could express- he felt dead inside, yet ached at the same time. There weren't words that adequately described how he felt- all contradictions and confusion. He hated being so dependant, but was so exhausted he could not be more grateful than when Elrohir lifted him down from the mare and laid him on a cloak to rest.  
  
Legolas suppressed a groan as the creature beneath him chafed and rubbed at his injury, sending spikes of agony up inside him. Knowing he could only endure, he leant back against Elrohir, closing his eyes. Perhaps sweet sleep could keep the pain at bay.  
  
* * * Elrohir felt his beloved go limp against him, indicating the onset of sleep. Holding the reins in one hand, Elrohir wrapped his free arm around the prince's waist, holding him securely in place against his body. The peredhel was more worried than ever; Legolas was getting worse instead of better. The distance that the twin had hoped would reassure the blonde seemed only to make him more withdrawn. Elrohir was acutely aware of the indignity Legolas was suffering from; being cared for like a child, having the blood from his wound seep through his breeches. His love was drawing further away from him and he was powerless to stop it.  
  
Spurring his mare on faster, Elrohir rode up level with Thranduil, attempting to catch his eye. He succeeded, and the blonde king slowed to a pace that was easier on his injured son, falling back in the group with Elrohir. "He needs to lie down and rest." Thranduil looked torn, caught between his concern for the effect their pace had on his son, and his eagerness to return home where Legolas could truly rest. "We are very near now Elrohir. We will ride on- he is sleeping now- and we will be able to get him to the healers quickly. If we stop now, he will only have to endure for longer. There is little we can do out here in the forest." Elrohir nodded reluctantly. He accepted Thranduil's reasoning, but the prince's current pain was palpable.  
  
The half-elf swore under his breath as he felt the first droplets of rain on the back of his neck, the threatening grey clouds finally making good on their promise of rain. After the first sprinkling of rain drops, the heavens abruptly opened, drenching them all to the skin within minutes. /Wonderful!/ Elrohir thought bitterly, /this is just what Legolas needs right now; to be soaked to the bone!/ He urged his horse to haste, dreaming of the hot bath and warm bed that awaited he and Legolas in Greenwood.  
  
* * * The rain lashed down on them, falling so thick that Elrohir could barely see the horse in front of him. Water streamed into his eyes, leaving them stinging and red, and he clung ever tighter to Legolas. Despite the heavy downpour and their almost breakneck speed, the prince had barely stirred since he fell asleep, failing to respond to any of Elrohir's attempts at conversation.  
  
Unable to see two feet in front of him, Elrohir could only hope and pray that they were near the palace. With the current level of visibility, they could be in Mordor for all Elrohir could tell. A looming black shape that passed above his head told him the group had just passed beneath a bridge or arch of such, then he heard a sound that made his heart soar. The clatter of hooves on stone beneath him proved to him that they had finally arrived in the palace stable yard, a realisation that nearly made him grin with relief.  
  
The command for halt came and swiftly the dark courtyard was awash with bright lanterns to aid the royal party. With the newly provided light, Elrohir could begin to recognise his surroundings; the same yard he had arrived in more than two hundred years ago as a frightened elfling, coming to foster with his elder twin. Stable hands and grooms hurried forward to lead away the horses, servants unloading the extra baggage. Elrohir leapt down from his place behind Legolas and troubled, pulled the prince down from the saddle and into his arms. The blonde remained asleep and unresponsive, not even the jarring movement of being taken down from the horse not breaking into his unconsciousness.  
  
Elrohir felt a hasty tug at his elbow- Thranduil had dismounted and was now fidgeting worriedly behind him. "Come, quickly now." Sharing the King's eagerness for haste, Elrohir hurried after him, Legolas feeling feather light in his arms. As the chaos taking place in the yard faded out of hearing, Elrohir realised his ears were ringing, and his heartbeat so loudly he could count its strokes.  
  
With no thought to etiquette, dripping a trail of rainwater behind them, the three hurried through the grand stone passages, alarming passers-by and servants alike with their bedraggled appearance and the prince cradled securely in the half-elf's arms. Elrohir recognised the route- they were going to Legolas childhood room. During his years at Greenwood it was a route he had travelled many a time, though in happier circumstances.  
  
Inside the heart of the palace, reserved for members of the royal family, the surroundings took on a less formal, more personal air. Gone were the magnificent murals of military victories and ostentatious decoration; instead the walls were lined with family portraits and paintings Elrohir recognised as the work of the various children Thranduil and his late wife had bore. A few he could even identify as the childhood work of Legolas. The chambers were luxurious yet cosy, the furniture bearing the evidence of many years of children's abuse. Looking down at his precious armful, Elrohir prayed the homely surroundings would aid his love's recovery.  
  
At last, Thranduil opened the door to Legolas' room, ushering Elrohir inside. Elrohir paused a moment in shock- the room was exactly as he had last seen it years ago, immaculate and seemingly not an object moved or out of place from the way Legolas like it. Seeing the amazement in the younger elf's eyes, Thranduil offered a brusque explanation. "We kept his room exactly as he left it: we always hoped he might return to it this way." He glanced sadly at his son. "We never imagined he would be returning like this."  
  
Taking a calming breath, Thranduil busied himself lifting the quilt to allow Elrohir to lay Legolas on the mattress. Together they worked on peeling away the layers of wet clothing, which were doubtless doing nothing to improve the prince's fragile health. Once done, Thranduil lovingly pulled the duvet back over his son's body, tucking it about his form as they waited for the arrival of the healers.  
  
A respectful knocking at the chamber door testified the healing elves had arrived, and Thranduil eagerly summoned them in. Led by Calenfen, three shocked looking healers edged inside. The trio wasted no time in flocking to Legolas' bedside, folding back the quilt and beginning their examination. "We will need hot water please." Calenfen nodded mutely and swiftly departed, looking thoroughly distressed. Thranduil and Elrohir remained quietly in the room as the healers probed wounds and muttered together over their findings. The tension in the room was beginning to affect Elrohir, fighting the desperate urge to pace around the room, knowing it would only disturb the others.  
  
A brief respite was provided by Calenfen's return, armed with a kettle of hot water and basin. The tallest of the healers took it gratefully and together the three pale elves worked together, dressing the wounds. Elrohir couldn't bring himself to watch as they gently probed the wound that pained him most, and out of the corner of his eye the twin could see that Thranduil was similarly affected. After what felt an interminable period, the healers finally replaced the divan over Legolas and rose, the most senior clearing his throat to indicate the termination of their examination.  
  
"A word, your majesty?" Thranduil nodded curtly and gestured towards the door. Realising this was not a conference he was invited to, Elrohir waited until the four older elves had swept out of the room, then quietly sat down on the mattress beside the prince. He took one limp hand in his and gently pulled it into his lap, stroking the near-translucent skin. He almost started as the mattress beside him sunk, having forgotten Calenfen was still in the room. Reaching out with his other hand for Calenfen's slender one, Elrohir clasped hands with the older prince, squeezing in solidarity. They sat, linked in silence, each absorbed in their own thoughts.  
  
The squeak of an un-oiled door brought them back to reality. The pale, frightened face of Lothriel hovered in the doorway. "Legolas."  
  
The elf-maiden rushed gracelessly to the bedside, kneeling by her younger brother's side and wringing her hands in despair. Close on her heels came Nimros, a warrior Elrohir had seldom seen perturbed. He found the sight of the great swordsman upset was actually somewhat unsettling. Their younger siblings, who had clearly been waiting outside the door with trepidation, quickly followed the elder pair and soon Thalion, Minuial, Nimros and Lothriel were crowded around the bed, looking fearfully to Calenfen and Elrohir for explanation. The eldest of the group, Lothriel, spoke first. "What happened? Why doesn't he wake?"  
  
Elrohir bit his lip. What should he say? Legolas would be mortified if they were to hear the full extent of his torture and he didn't wish to betray his friend, but they had a right to know what ailed their little brother. Seeing the warring emotions displayed on Elrohir's face, Calenfen came to his rescue, absolving him from the responsibility. "He was raped."  
  
Silence met this blunt pronouncement, four identical looks of shock swiftly directed at the speaker. Seeing they were simply too stunned to utter a word, he answered the unspoken questions in their eyes. "He was beaten for years by Lord Glorfindel of Gondolin, his chosen mate. The abuse escalated in recent months, culminating in one night last month. He was tortured then violated." He gestured to the half-elf at his side. "Elrohir and Lord Elrond found him and arrested his tormentor. Glorfindel has been banished from the Elven realms."  
  
All was still as the children on Thranduil attempted to take in this new, horrific information. Finally, Minuial smiled sadly at Elrohir, laying her hand atop the clasped hands of her brother and friend. "Thank you, for rescuing him Elrohir. We are greatly indebted to you." The younger twin shook his head guiltily. "I did nothing, we came too late."  
  
Thalion, who had been tenderly tucking stray hair behind his little brother's ear, looked up bitterly. "Aye, you did nothing, 'friend'," he spat angrily, "you sat by and watched as your seneschal used him as target practise!" "Thalion," Calenfen spoke with warning in his tone. Sensing the impending confrontation, Minuial rose from the floor. "Legolas needs to rest, let us leave him in peace." She yanked Thalion and Nimlos to their feet. "Now, brothers." Thalion shot Elrohir a venomous glare. "For the sake of my brother I will leave that he might rest. But I will not forget this." An exasperated Minuial shoved him unceremoniously through the door, dragging and apologetic Nimlos behind her. As the door clicked shut behind them, Lothriel got to her feet.  
  
"Forgive him Elrohir; it isn't you he is truly angry at." Elrohir managed a nod but no words. True, it was understandable that Thalion would be angry and upset has his brother's defilement, but his former friend's words still stung. Legolas stirred restlessly on the bed, as if sensing the tension that had built up in the room, and Elrohir instinctively squeezed his hand reassuringly.  
  
Lothriel heaved a deep sigh, rubbing her brow with one slender hand. "Firloss and Vanamar are with ada and the healers, I cannot say when they will return." She looked concerned at Calenfen. "You need to rest and eat, little brother, it was a long ride." Calenfen took her outstretched hand and forced himself to stand. As his sister led him to the door, he looked back, looking askance at Elrohir. The peredhel understood his reluctance to leave. "I will watch over him." Calenfen nodded, appeased, and followed his sister out of the door.  
  
Alone with Legolas at last, Elrohir first stripped off his layers of wet clothing, hanging them by the fire. He rummaged in the nearest set of drawers for a robe to borrow, knowing Legolas would gladly donate one if he had been conscious. Once dry and dressed, he lay himself down by the prince, on top on the divan, content to watch him sleep. The blonde twitched occasionally, pained expressions passing over his features.  
  
Elrohir's heart went out to the prince- another nightmare. Soon, the familiar quiet whimpers and murmurs escaped his sleeping lips, tremors running through the wasted body. Elrohir gathered the cold hand in his, rubbing and blowing on them to coax the blood back into the frozen limbs. Legolas took a shuddering breath, as if gasping for air, and Elrohir sat up alarmed. The prince murmured louder, loud enough for Elrohir to make out the words. "Please. why will you not let me die? Why."  
  
The desperation in the words was both pitiful and chilling to Elrohir at the same time. Legolas wanted to die, he truly wished for death. But if he had lost the will to live, then that would mean. Elrohir thought back to the last painful months with his mother, watching her fade as she succumbed to the Elven-sickness. He could not help the tears that sprung from his eyes; the thought of watching Legolas fade away to a mere shell as he had done with his mother was too painful for words, and if Legolas' unconscious admission was true, there would be no hope of persuading him to seek respite over Sea. Weeping silently, Elrohir curled up on his side, cradling his beloved's limp hands, sobbing into the pillow. "Melamin, please don't leave me, don't leave me all alone." 


	7. Chapter 18

Title: Niphred Ôl (1-2/18)  
  
Author: Quellecristiel  
  
Author's Email: quellecristiel@yahoo.co.uk  
  
Pairings: Legolas/Glorfindel, eventual Legolas/Elrohir  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: Legolas is being abused by his lover, but he loves him too much to leave  
  
Disclaimer: You know the drill, I don't own anything but two paperclips, a pen and a notepad  
  
WARNING: Violence, Rape, OOC Glorfindel, AU (no ring)  
  
Authors Note: I really do rather like Glorfindel, and he's lovely in my other fic, Healing, (soon to be published in Skyfire's zine), but I needed somebody to be the bad guy this time, and I don't like bringing in original characters. I'm sorry to all the Glorfindel fans out there! If you do like this fic, please review and make a poor little slash writer's day...  
  
just in case you missed it.  
  
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS DOMESTIC ABUSE, RAPE AND BDSM. IF YOU OBJECT TO THESE TOPICS PLEASE DO NOT READ  
  
Please don't flame, and get upset over the rating/content etc. I have posted adequate warning and explained the content of this story, it is your choice to read it or not. Constructive criticism however is welcome- you can't improve without knowing your failings (  
  
Special thanks go to Cheysuli, whose challenge this is the result of, and to my wonderful beta reader Niana Yuy.  
  
(thank you both so much!)  
  
*****************************  
  
AN: Last chapter folks!  
  
Chapter 18  
  
Firloss could tell something was gravely wrong when his father refused to meet his eyes. Expecting to be scolded for eavesdropping with his brothers and sisters outside Legolas' room, Thranduil's eldest son was surprised to be beckoned to follow as his father swept out of the room with the healers in tow. He noted Vanamar had tagged along, looking equally as grave as his father, adding to the crown prince's sinking feeling. What could have happened to Legolas to provoke such miserable faces?  
  
Inside his father's study, Firloss started as Thranduil abruptly turned away, ignoring him in favour of the healers. Perhaps he was in trouble after all? "Speak." The senior healer, a tall male with unusually dark hair for a Sinda and a slim face, swallowed nervously before making his report. "He is fading, your majesty, there is no doubt of it. He is skin and bones, his injuries have ceased to heal and he has become open to infection- his body is shutting itself down. His prolonged unconsciousness is a symptom of the Elven-sickness."  
  
Firloss felt detached, as if none of this was really happening, like it was all a dream. His brother was. dying? The silence in the room was deafening, pounding in his suddenly over-sensitive ears. Growing uncomfortable in the pained hush, the healer who had first spoken attempted a tentative question. "Sire, it might help if we were to know what caused your son's anguish.?" For a moment Firloss thought Thranduil was going to refuse to answer and order them all from the room, so great was the anger and bitterness that twisted his features. Vanamar fidgeted awkwardly to his left, tugging at his damp sleeve and looking down at his boots. It was this bad? Firloss backed away towards the door in anticipation of his father's command, but it never came.  
  
"He was raped."  
  
Firloss felt like he'd been punched. This explained so very much, but at the same time gave rise to a thousand more questions in the place of those answered. A maelstrom of emotions held him; grief, anger, shock, disbelief, sorrow, fear and pity blended and whirled in his head. The need to be by his little brother's side was overwhelming.  
  
Thranduil continued his explanation, seeing the confusion in his eldest son. "He was the lover of Glorfindel while in Imladris; it was a less than even relationship. Over the past few months it deteriorated to the point where he beat and raped Legolas one night. Your brother was found by Elrohir and Elrond, who have cared for him since. He suffered a mental breakdown, and has been deteriorating since. He will speak to none but Elrohir."  
  
The healer nodded slowly. "We suspected that was the case when he saw the nature of his physical injury, but we needed confirmation." Thranduil turned back sharply, seeming to have forgotten the presence of the three. "What can you do for him?" "Make him comfortable. Once fading has begun, it is irreversible without the intervention of the Valar."  
  
Firloss clutched at his stomach, nauseous and dizzy. Vanamar stepped in, lowering the elder youth to the floor, pressing his head down to rest between his legs. "Let the blood flow back into your head." Firloss attempted to nod but thought better of it as the movement added to his wooziness. Legolas was going to die. His baby brother. He should have gone to investigate years ago, he knew there was something wrong when Legolas ceased responding to his letters. How could anyone want to hurt his little brother? Who could do that to another elf?  
  
"What about Glorfindel? What happened to him?" Firloss was overcome with a desperate urge to know what had become of his brother's rapist, a need to know he was suffering. "Whipped and banished." Firloss tasted bile in his mouth. "He should have died." Thranduil sighed at his eldest son's fury; it was a wish he had shared- however, Elrond had managed to talk him around from perpetrating another Kinslaying. "It would have done Legolas no good to taint him with the mark of Kinslaying." Thranduil massaged his temples, fighting the migraine the stress of the evening had caused. Looking to the healers, he spoke quietly; "Do anything you can for him, he must want for nothing these next months. Ease his pain, ensure he is comfortable; he will not be with us much longer."  
  
Realising their dismissal, the three healers took their leave quietly, leaving the family to their grief. "Vanamar, you and I had better change into dryer clothing." "Yes father." He gave Firloss' shoulder one last squeeze and rose, following the healers from the room. Alone with his father, Firloss' struggled to his feet and looked up to his father with wide, bewildered eyes. Ignoring his father's wet garments, he wrapped his arms about Thranduil's neck, hugging him close. Closing his arms about his son's back, Thranduil returned the hug, holding Firloss tightly against him as hot tears added to the moisture clinging to his tunic. "Ada, he will die!" Thranduil placed a solemn kiss on his son's head, feeling the anguish that radiated from the youth. "There might be another way."  
  
* * *  
  
Legolas stared dumbly into Elrohir's pleading face. "Please don't give up on yourself, meldir. Choose life." Legolas blinked slowly. Elrohir just didn't understand, did he? "I don't want to live, Elli. I don't want to live like this." Legolas instinctively clutched his chest. "I'm so tired meldir, I just want to rest." Elrohir lunged forwards desperately, capturing the prince's thin hands in his own. "You can rest, Legolas, you can rest as long as you like. You need never do anything you do not wish to." He brought the hands to his lips. "You will want for nothing, nîn-êl. You can be healed, made whole again."  
  
Legolas looked away bitterly. "Nothing can make me whole again. You don't know- you don't wake screaming every night, you aren't afraid to look in the mirror, you, you." He took a deep calming breath. "You cannot understand this. I just want release from this torment, Elli. Is that so much to ask?" "I watched my mother fade, Legolas. I do not want to stand by and see you die." Elrohir tore himself away from the bed and paced restlessly. "Please, consider this."  
  
Legolas hugged his knees to his chest miserably. Fighting sobs that threatened to break out, he spoke his heart to his friend. "Elli, please; I can't take any more. I can't eat, I can't sleep, I see him behind every corner. I can't even look at my own reflection; all I see is a whore staring back at me. I feel tainted, dirty in a way no amount of bathing can cure. I just want it to end, Elrohir, please don't make this any more difficult."  
  
Elrohir knelt before his beloved, heart aching with pity as the blonde bared his heart to him. "It will end, meldir, I swear it will. Please reconsider, at least give it a try." He lowered his voice. "Please don't leave me." "You will forget." "I love you, Legolas, I would never forget! If you die, I will follow you to the Halls of Waiting."  
  
Elrohir bit his lip as he realised his mistake, but it was too late. Instead of sorrowful and resigned as he had been but a moment before, Legolas looked shocked, almost disbelieving. "You, you love...?" Elrohir kicked himself inwardly. Now Legolas would be repulsed! Cornered thus, he could do nothing but confess the truth. "I do. But I swear to you, I could never hurt you my star."  
  
"You love me." Legolas did not attempt to pull his hand away or recoil in anger, as Elrohir had expected he would. Encouraged by his reaction, Elrohir thought perhaps their friendship might be salvaged after all." "You do not hate me? You aren't afraid of me?" Legolas shook his head. "You really love me? Truly?" Elrohir actually chuckled with relief. "With all my heart, melamin." Legolas looked almost overwhelmed, and Elrohir hastily continued, keen to assuage the blonde's fears. "I understand that you do not return my love, and I would never presume to act upon it. All I ask is you remain of this world, do not give up on life yet."  
  
Elrohir was caught totally off guard when Legolas slipped from the bed to kneel in his arms. Gratified that the prince had not rejected him, he held him close, wrapping his arms round the too-thin back. "Let me take care of you, melme." Legolas pulled back enough to meet Elrohir's eyes. "When do we leave?"  
  
Epilogue Autumn was fast approaching in the valley city, the leaves turned golden brown and beginning their journey to the forest floor. It had been Celebrían's favourite season while she lived here, delighting in the soft crunch of leaves underfoot and the new spectrum of colours the leaves took on. The valley did look extremely beautiful at this time of the autumn, Elrond reflected, the time when the leaves had turned but most still clung tenaciously to their branches.  
  
His musings on the beauty of the city were disturbed by the sound of one politely hearing his throat to announce his presence. He turned round to face the elf responsible for breaking into his peace. His heart quickened as he saw a tall auburn-haired male, dressed in the garb of the Greenwood messengers corps. "Mae govannen, Silinde." The Greenwood elf bowed deferentially. "I am honoured you remember me, my Lord. I bear a message from your son, sire." Elrond took the sealed parchment with trembling fingers, clumsily breaking the seal and opening the folds. Seeing the personal import of the letter, Silinde retreated from the balcony, giving Elrond some privacy.  
  
Fumbling with the parchment, Elrond finally folded it out. Yes, it was Elrohir's script! He began to read hungrily, devouring his son's words.  
  
'To my beloved Ada and Elladan, Be assured that I am well, and had a tolerable journey, though the same cannot be said of Legolas. For him the ride was long and painful, and reopened old wounds in more than one sense. He has begun to fade like our mother, he has lost all will to live and if he remains on Middle-earth, his spirit will surely take flight to Mandos' Halls, and I will follow not long after. Please know it was never my intention, ada, but I cannot live without him.  
  
The fading was happening so fast, I little choice but to pursue this course of action, so please forgive me for the pain I cause in so doing. As you read this, I will be sailing over Sea with Legolas, that he might live and be healed by the grace of the Valar. Please do not be angry, for I love you both beyond all reckoning. This was the only way I could save the life of my beloved. Watching someone fade is a terrible thing as you both understand, and I could not bear another night of his screams of pain. I love him, father.  
  
I have confessed my love to Legolas, and though he has accepted it, it is still to early, too raw, for him to be able to love again. I understand this, and only ask to be near and to be given the chance to take care of him. Thranduil and his children are not yet ready to leave these shores; only I was willing to stay with him- understand that this was the only way. I apologise for not coming to see you first, but speed was of the essence to save what is left of my prince.  
  
I pray your forgiveness and understanding, and know that I will always love you both and think of your constantly. Do not weep, for we will meet again in Valinor when you tire of Middle-earth.  
  
Your loving Elli.'  
  
Elrond stood in shock as he reached the end of the letter. He could barely take it in- Elrohir had sailed for Valinor? His youngest son, his little Elli, gone? Elrond leant heavily on the railings, not trusting his legs to keep him upright.  
  
/ I love him, father/  
  
Elrond sighed heavy-hearted. Yes, Elrohir loved Legolas, and he had made the right decision, the decision that he himself would have made with Celebrían if he had been able. Elrohir was there for the prince when he needed him most; aye, his son had chosen right, no matter how much it pained him to lose his youngest child. He felt his eyes brim, but swallowed back his tears.  
  
Elrohir was right; they would meet again. And until that day, there was another who needed him more. 


	8. Authors Note

Just a big thank you again to my beta, Niana, who faithfully picked through my awful typos and grammar, and to Cheysuli, who donated the challenge that started it all. Thank you to everyone who's reviewed- it really makes a difference to know that someone is reading your work (  
  
Hope you enjoyed, and hopefully when I have less work I will start work on another.  
  
May your elves forever be hot and sweaty,  
  
xxx Sophie 


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